I’m truly and literally overjoyed for her about this because, while I don’t have many memories from when I was her age, I do remember being able to do this.
I remember it being the most amazing thing ever. Huge. That I could maneuver those things up to my face, to my mouth, and it was pure joy.
In retrospect, I don’t remember thinking others were better than me because, heyo, they could walk and stuff. That didn’t even compute since they were them, and I was me.
And, heyo, I was bad-ass. I could put my feet in my mouth.
Granted, all this is translated into my current head-voice and vocab. Of course. I didn’t have those specific cognizant baby-head-thoughts back then. But you understand what I’m saying, right?
How, it was awesome that I was accomplishing this heretofore impossible task.
And how it had nothing to do with anyone else and what they were able to do. I’m sure I recognized on some level that we were all different, but there was no distinction of which different was better or worse. There was no such thing.
As I have small, daily freak-outs in front of my computer where I try to talk myself down from trashing all my writing because it isn't up to par with so-and-so's writing, my daughter puts her foot in her mouth and reminds me -- there’s still no such thing.
Makes me think fondly of this:
How are your daily freak-outs and feats coming?