My Daughter, The Chameleon

I'm constantly amazed at the depth of my daughter's character. It seems odd to be talking about it in those terms, but I can't think of another way. She is ever changing and yet still consistent.

She is a happy child. She loves to play and be affectionate. She explores and is only still when she's completely exhausted. She's active and runs circles around the boys at her day care.

She also has moments of quiet contemplation. As is true of my side of the family, these moments are few and short-lived, proving again that she could only be my daughter, but she does have them. When she gets in these moods, she doesn't seem to find much amusement in the antics of myself or my wife, but she does watch us with the interest of Jane Goodall observing the chimpanzees (good analogy for me, not so much for my wife). I half expect her to pull out a steno pad or micro-cassette recorder and start taking notes on the behaviors of the mature homo sapiens.



Physically, she's also changing dramatically. My parents who see her through Skype every week or so claim that she looks so different every time. I always smile and nod my head at their senility. I think they must be confusing her with someone else, like one of their other grandchildren.

Occasionally, however, I see their point. She looks like a different person from the one we brought home from the hospital almost eleven months ago.









She could be related to that first baby, her sister maybe, but not the same person.

I'm excited to watch how she continues to change.

I keep wondering what kind of person she will become, but I know that she won't be anything like I imagine.

I am just amazed by her.