Little Miss Personality
When I was six months pregnant with Cakes, we went to Mexico for a “last hurrah”. Here’s me, hurrahing:
(The next time I go to Mexico, I will definitely not be with child, and that will most definitely not be a virgin daiquiri in my hand. I seethed with envy every time McHotty enjoyed a frosty pint on the beach during that trip. But I digress).
One night we were strolling through a market, and one of the vendors had these adorable ponchos for babies. Of course, we couldn’t resist buying one for our unborn child. My only disappointment was the smallest size he had in the colour I wanted was a 2. It seemed like it would be an interminable amount of time before Sherwood (that’s what we called Cakes then) would be big enough to wear the thing. We bought it anyway, and upon returning home I tucked it away.
Fast forward almost three years later. I dug out the poncho, which had seemed so huge, and it fits Cakes perfectly. But what is so interesting to me is how three years ago the vision of the child wearing this garment was so abstract: I pictured an angelic, cheerful little babe, but really had no idea who this person was.
I tried to take a picture of Cakes wearing her poncho, and it struck me just how much she is her own person, and she’s not even three. She’s a far cry from the child I pictured while I lolled on a beach in Mexico:
Out of about thirty shots, not one is cooperative. My babe is a force to be reckoned with: she will not be bullied, or cajoled. She knows what she wants. She’s strong and determined; she’s a handful; she’s defiant. She's exhausting; she’s a delight.
I’m so proud of her.