This Little Girl'S Take On Being Little (Aug 18Th, 2011)

[CandiPiglet]

I like to free-write to stay "in contact" with myself when I'm on work-related trips. I get caught up in my public persona and I begin to lose track of my true self, which ultimately causes me pain. This essay began unexpectedly and turned out to be a very therapeutic piece for me. I hope you enjoy it, and even more, I hope you can relate to it. (I broke it up into smaller paragraphs to make it easier to digest).

A little girl's Take on Being little.

Being little is something different to all of us. To those of us who enjoy being little anyway, it's something special.

For me, it's innocence. It's being nurtured, adored, cuddled, worried about, properly instructed, praised/disciplined appropriately, cherished, appreciated... loved.

It's many things I can't put into words, mostly because of the intensity with which I find myself regressing regularly. There are no words. There is a wistful sense of wonder; a roller coaster of inexperienced emotions;

There is a promise that everyday, my little self will learn something new and accomplish a new feat such as counting higher because my blessings abound more and more everyday, coloring brighter in accordance with the evermore beautiful world around me, or learning new words in whichever language Mommy is speaking.

There is my reliance on Mommy because she's the one. She's the one who makes everything scary in

the world go away; the one who sings to me in a language beyond my verbal comprehension, leaving only the tones in her voice as cues to my understanding. She's the one who makes the effort to ensure that when her baby goes ni-ni, all is at peace.

In the best way possible, everything negative about my life's assumed identity is stripped away and I'm

fitted with a tailor-made identity and nicknamed by Mommy's lips. Whether the name is "Little One," "Piglet," "Pretty," "Princess," "Fussy Britches," "Tsaby," or "Stinky"... They all mean the same thing to me. They are all an indication that I'm her special one.

She knows me better than I know myself and through the ever-growing bond(s) that we share, our friendship intensifies as we each mature in our own way.

One of the most rewarding aspects of babyhood for me is seeing the smile on her face, the physical reaction that her entire body only semi-consciously displays, the joy in her eyes and knowing that all that happiness comes from something that is bringing me the same kind of happiness.

I've arrived at the understanding that these are the simplest needs being felt and are reminiscent of the best stages in a person's life, according to their consideration and experience. Being able to dwell in that moment and design it to near- perfection and share it with someone else is very much living a lifelong dream.

It is life, complete.