This is definitely not the face that launched a thousand ships.
This is the face that found her two brothers running for the door lest they get caught up in what seemed to be sure tornadic activity. By the time I marched Miss Oscar out to join them, they were both buckled in their car seats--two perfect angels with freshly polished halos.
All I did was ask my flower child to stand by the wall for one quick before-church photo of her all beautiful in an outfit that reflects her name, Rose. What I got instead was a bunch of stink weeds and a lesson in how to turn the corners of your mouth down so low that the photo looks doctored.
I can't look at the photo without sighing--Gideon Bible in hand, yet its message so far from that young heart.
I guess it's just a phase, evidence of Amelia spreading her wings and seeing how far I've let out the tether. Husband even mentioned it yesterday after baths, how trying parenting is at these times.
From morning cheerios to last book before prayers, it's a battle of disobedience.
But when we go out among the waves of purple, she's my little girl again, wandering aimlessly across the field, oblivious to anything but the knee-high wildflowers that open and close behind her like a curtain, enveloping her in simple beauty.
Here, bad attitudes melt, defiance flees. No more bossing around or yelling at her brothers. No more eyes flashing to challenge a simple request. She simply stands, sits on damp earth and picks a handful--all for me.
Not decked in fancy rose-printed clothes but here amongst the wild blossoms where she simply lets go--this just might be where she is most lovely.