Being a Caterpillar

There's my Dotter.

The caterpillar.

She wanted to audition for a play.

Uh... but people will see you.

And look at you.

And laugh at the lines.

And you'll think they're laughing at you.

And these will be people you don't know.

Strangers.

And you won't be able to crawl under the couch.

Or duck your head.

Or refuse to speak.

Or retreat into your other world where only you exist.

So.

I prayed.

And took her.

And crossed my fingers.

And there she is.

Not only as the caterpillar...

But also as one of the birds:

and as one of the flowers...

But my favorite was the caterpillar.

Because she wasn't in a group.

And she had to be so brave.

And she didn't hide.

Or cower.

Or hate life because she was forced to talk.

She was the best caterpillar that I ever saw.

I almost forgot that this was the little girl who didn't talk.

I almost forgot that this was the little girl we have to remind

to look people in the eyes during a conversation.

I almost forgot that this was the little girl we have to explain

what rhetorical questions are and how not everything is always literal.

No, she's not actually going to eat a horse; it's an expression... no, she isn't lying.

Like the caterpillar who slowly transfoms into a butterfly,
so my precious Dotter is slowly transforming into a confident young lady.

Slowly.

And I'll let her take her time.
And I won't try to force her.

And I wouldn't trade her for the world.