My daughter Annie, who just turned three, is hardly ever herself. Every day, indeed, sometimes every hour, she corrects me if I call her Annie or Anne or even Sweetie. “No, Mommy, I am is _______.”
Sometimes she is “Sleeping Beauty,” sometimes she is “Beauty and the Beast.” Yesterday she threw me a curve when she came up to me and solemnly announced, “Mommy, I am is Father Gene.” Father Gene is a holy priest who assists our pastor. He often says the 11:30 AM Mass we attend on Sundays, and he baptized our newest baby Peter a couple of weeks ago.
One day as I was changing her diaper, I asked Anne who she was today. I asked her if she was Sleeping Beauty or Princess Aurora, or a fairy, or Snow White. To each she said, “No.” I finally asked her “Well, who are you?” My usually-feisty, “don’t hug me too tightly I need to run around” little girl said “I your Baby. Just your Baby.” I cried and held her as long as I could before she ran off to be Robin Hood.