Velvet Slippers

They say that time flies. I disagree with that. I think it sneaks by, quietly, so you won’t notice it passing.

This adorable little moppet is my daughter L. The picture was taken in 1999, when she was three, when she loved big poofy dresses, teddy bears, fairies, and anything that was pink.

She was my baby. Before Michael came along, she was the youngest, and as an infant she always liked it best when she was held.

Here, she was just a few months old, and she had to be toted around constantly. It was her older sister’s third birthday, and throughout the day, not only did I carry the video camera, I carried L.

Because she curled up into a little ball and nestled into my arms whenever I held her, I called her my little snuggle bean. I was good with the snuggling thing. When you’re busy snuggling with a baby, you can’t be called upon to wash dishes, mow the lawn, paint the bedroom, etc. And there is nothing like napping with a baby on your chest: drowsy babies put out sleepy vibes that guarantee you the best nap you’ll ever get. This is one of God’s most delightful gifts to parents.

At some point during the blur that was the past nine years, L stopped being little. She went from snuggle bean to string bean.

Gone are the days when I could carry her around in my arms. Gone as well are the days when I could pick her up and sit her on my shoulders. Today, she’s taller than everyone else in the family except for me, and can nearly look me straight in the eye. I would not be terribly surprised if in just a few months I’m looking up at her.

And even though it’s fuzzy, I haven’t forgotten her childhood entirely. I still find it easy to recall all the really squirrelly things she’s done over the years, like microwaving her gum to make it soft, grabbing the ball of butter on her pancakes and eating it because she thought it was ice cream, shoving a peanut up her nose, building nests out of piles of blankets or sleeping under her bed because it was “more comfortable.” She was very much like Michael in many regards (a fact I shall explore more deeply in a future post), and I’m glad I can finally look back upon these exploits and chuckle to myself (it gives me some hope that I may some day laugh at Michael’s exploits). For just in the past year, her squirrelliness has gradually given way to more mature traits.

She’s a big help in the kitchen. I call her my sous chef. When I’m cooking dinner, she’ll jump right in and ask if she can help, so I put her to work: grating cheese, cutting up vegetables, starting noodles, assembling a salad, or doing whatever prep work I need help with. She’s been learning cooking skills for a while now, and I expect by next year she’ll be able to make dinner for us and teach her sisters a few things.

She attends an art school, developing proficiency in performing arts, dance, music, sculpture, computer graphics and sketch drawing. She enjoys all of it and may have a hard time choosing which direction to focus on when time comes to choose a career path.

Several weeks ago L started excitedly telling me about the upcoming Sadie Hawkins dance. I asked her if she had someone in mind to ask to the dance. She coyly said she wasn’t sure.

On the night of the dance, I dropped by her mom’s place to drop something off and to say a quick hello to her before she went. As I chatted with her sister, L tentatively, bashfully stepped down the stairs, all dressed up for the dance. I was stunned. There was this beautiful young woman, all smiles, big brown eyes, coiffed and perfect hair, dressed to the nines in her ball gown – not looking little and cute, but very mature and beautiful.

I suddenly found myself at a loss for words, swept over by a flood of bittersweet emotion. That’s my youngest daughter, I thought. My little snuggle bean.

All grown up.

I regained my composure quickly, and told her she looked very pretty and hoped that she’d have a terrific evening. After I said goodbye and drove home, I couldn’t help but envision future years in which she becomes more interested in boys, begins dating, and eventually asks me to meet the man who’s asked her to marry him. And then my little snuggle bean will become someone else’s snuggle bean.

Which is as it should be. But why does it seem like so little time has passed since then? It’s like the song says: Wasn’t it yesterday when they were small?

At some point or another, it becomes impossible to deny life’s stern reality. Time steals swiftly by on velvet slippers; softly, smoothly, gently. You can choose to pay no attention to it, you can merely watch it pass, or you can jog along right beside it and even keep up with it for a while.

But time never stops to rest, and it never turns around. It just keeps running, inexorably, incessantly forward. And faster than you ever realize.