She's all that and a couple of pot stickers

She's my last born (and I'm positive about that fact). She loves the following:

• Fuzzy pajamas with feet included.

• Smooth, cool textures.

• Chicken teriyaki with two pot stickers, followed by a no-nuts Drumstick.

• Shia LaBeouf (in a marryin' way).

• Friday movie night after eating bullet point #2 above.

• Telling my wife and me exactly how we look every morning ("Dad, you shouldn't tuck that in. Maybe you could have pulled that off in your thirties, but think twice about it now.")

She doesn't suffer incompetence lightly, but she's the first to lend a compassionate ear, to comfort you when she feels you've been wronged. Here's an example:

"Dad, when you were nine, were you fat?"

"Yep, I sure was."

"Did kids make fun of you?"

"Sometimes."

"What did you do about it?"

"I don't know. Maybe I told them to shut up or something."

"Well, Dad, if I were with you, I'd tell those bullies that they're not inside your body where you're beautiful."

Then she'd hug me or kiss my cheek.

She has an extremely fiery temper, which I attribute to my wife's disposition, as well as any other negative traits either of my daughters may possess (just my personal theory). I don't really want to speculate as to the level of stratosphere that temper will occupy in about five years, because it's a really frightening prospect, and I'm hoping teenage boot camp will be a much more common, socially accepted practice at that point.

She's the reason I started this blog back in July when she had made a decisively blunt assessment of my wife's outfit one morning. Maybe the next time she criticizes my appearance, I'll simply state, "Remember, I was a fat, sad, little boy," and that will distract her enough for me to make a quick escape.

I think my favorite part of every day is her bedtime, when I can finally cuddle up next to her and squeeze her as hard and long as she'll allow. After she says something like, "Okay, Dad, you'll see me in about nine hours, so just chill," it never takes her very long to drift off. It's hard for me to leave her just yet, and I often find myself just watching her breathe, her grey silhouette barely visible.