in praise of intransigent, articulate, stubborn, creative and impossibly fidgety almost-eight-year-olds

So, Frances can be tough. Her intensity has always been something extraordinary to behold, in times of sparkling growth and during those painful, window-rattling meltdowns. She drives me batty; she takes my breath away. And as with all children - well, people, really - I could never give up those parts of her that can enrage me, because they are the very same parts that make her completely and perfectly wonderful. Completely and perfectly herself.

I was reminded of the double-edges of my eldest this morning, watching her walk to the neighbors' for a ride to school. How I wish I'd snuck a picture of her! Better that I didn't really, because we were enjoying a silly, tension-less leave-taking and I might have ruined it. So instead you'll have to imagine her: mary janes with two different socks (one spotted, one striped), brand new pants covered in a rainbow of butterflies (I thought she'd make an exception to her no-pants rules for them), a too-short dress with a print of large flowers in different shades of blue (she did decide that the pants were worth wearing, but she would still wear dresses everyday - so she picked a dress that was short, to better display the butterflies), the sweater jacket my mother knit for me in kindergarten with flowers embroidered on the front, and to top it all off? The navy blue adult-sized rain poncho Edith bought for her in Vermont, after she had admired the functionality and drape of an identical one that Edith's father Franklin was wearing.

The poncho almost dragged behind her, and gathered in bunches around her backpack straps. She marched off through the gently falling pink petals of our cherry tree, in the misty wet morning, the quiet everywhere, and yelled over her shoulder: Adieu! Adieu! I blew her kisses from behind the screen door, holding Bea over my shoulder.

As she did last year, she is planning a May Day party (early) during recess today. She made the invitations last night. She was dressed for the occasion. She dragged a heavy bag of animal crackers and pink lemonade along the sidewalk.

She is an artist, a party-spark, a bright jewel. I only hope that as she grows she keeps on learning to manage those big, boundless feelings that are ever moving, ever stirring, ever inspiring inside her.