One Day

I attempt to brush her teeth, and she clamps her mouth shut and shakes her head.

I put green beans on her plate and she throws them on the floor.

I tell her not to stand in the bath or the high chair or the shopping cart, and she smiles and does it anyway.

If she's anything like I was as a teenager, one day I'll tell her to be home by 10 and she'll roll her eyes.

One day I'll tell her to drive safely and she'll ignore me.

One day I'll tell her to call me when she gets there and she'll swear she forgot.

I only want to protect her. One day, when she's grown and has a child of her own, she'll understand. Like I do, now.