As I was cleaning up my desk, I found some old photos my mom sent me. In these photos, I'm almost three years old and I'm telling stories:
"Once upon a time in a city far off in the distance..."
"And then the brave, kind girl..."
January 7, 2008 update: At HipWriterMama's request, here is a photo of Lucia at around the same age:
One of the key differences between us at these ages may not be immediately apparent, but I believe to be true: Lucia has always known how lovely she is, whereas I always suspected adults were lying and merely saying what they thought they were supposed to say when they complimented me. The big reason was that I was self-conscious of my long, uncut hair. More than stylish clothes or new toys, those braids set me apart from other children, and I felt them to be a burden--literally. It was heavy and cumbersome. I always wanted short hair. With Lucia, I decided that her hair would be kept fairly short until she expressed an opinion otherwise. Now, she's growing out her hair for the braids that she wants every now and then, but I still try to keep it to a managable length.