As a special treat, I took Mahalia to get her first mani/pedi. Her feet were washed and moisturized. She chose orange essential oils to be added to the treatment and selected the loveliest shades of purple and hot pink to be painted in a pattern on her fingers and toes. I watched her move around the salon with an amazing amount of confidence, grace and ease and my heart swelled when I heard her say, "I'm not comfortable. The chair keeps scooting back." I congratulated her on her ability to say how she was feeling, adding that many grown ups don't feel confident enough to say when they're uncomfortable. She added, "i wasn't even scared when I was far away from you in the salon."

I realize here while I write that she is growing into a self assured little person. It makes sense, too, why she's all of a sudden having tantrums and crying uncontrollably when things do not unfold exactly as she has them planned. Being independent is wonderful and exhilarating and scary as hell.

Her friends are turning four and she has said more than once, "I think I will recognize so and so when he turns 4." Followed by, "I wonder what I'll be like when I'm 4."

The other night I had a dream that she and I were walking along a path and I had a distinct feeling I'd been there before. In a waking state though I can't recall ever being there. We're walking along and come to this bridge that is wide enough for only one of us. I was trying to convince her to cross the bridge by herself, silently knowing that I was too scared once to cross that bridge alone. I can't remember what happened next. I'm sure I'll see it again soon. I walk around stewing about this dream and thinking that parenting is so hard. It's wonderful and exhilarating and scary as hell and at most moments I really wonder if I'm saying the right things or making the right decisions. Only time will tell, I suppose. In the meantime, Mahalia continues being hilairous and sweet and challenging and smart and delicious.