when i was perusing baby names during my first pregnancy, i kept coming back to chloe. i just liked the sound of it. i liked it even more when i read that it is derived from a greek term that symbolizes "blooming". so perhaps it is somewhat of a prophetic irony that the botanic definition of precociousness is similar: "blossoming before the appearance of leaves" - which describe chloe's mental aptitude to a tee.
this child/clone of mine has already firmed up her choice of halloween attire [mermaid], began the process of compiling her christmas wish list and is already contemplating the venue for her next birthday party.
the christmas list hangs on its designated magnet on the side of the refrigerator. easily accessible so that she can reach it and bring it to me as needed. despite her inability to read, she pauses to inspect each time she passes, as if to ensure that i have not omitted or forgotten to add an item. to date - the list includes a set of pixos - of which i get reminded every time the dreaded commercial is on - a remote controlled helicopter, an art set and a roller coaster. i mentioned this last one to chris the other day in front of her and he says, "a roller coaster? wow, chloe, that's a really large gift. what kind of roller coaster do you want?". she looks at him, incredulously, tilting her head to one side and then replies with all the snarkiness of a tween, "daddy, you know what kind i want. a pink one!".
*sigh*. she is, undoubtedly, her mother's child, which - on one hand - is humorous. but on the other hand, oh the other hand... it is shaking with terror. admittedly, i'm an obsessive planner - as evidenced by the black leather daytimer (circa 1997) that i never leave home without. there are many days that i don't even open it, it's more like a security blanket, the "woobie" of my adulthood that i carry in my adult-esque tote in the same way chloe carries her stuffed animals in her princess backpack. as much as i love technology [and yes, i do love technology], i cannot let go of the daytimer. i love to open it up see the messiness of life compartmentalized into neat little squares. i love the ritulastic year-end process of opening a new calendar and a new year of life and filling in the squares with birthdays and occasions and events. inevitably, there is always something to look forward to, and that "something" [my mother says] - and not the daytimer - is really what i could never live without.
obviously, this is a concept that my four year old is clearly aware of, which isn't necessarily a negative one. there is no harm in looking forward to the future unless it prevents us or distracts us or disables us from enjoying the present. despite her penchant for planning, she remains my instructor for living in the moment, watering me with the wisdom of childhood as i belatedly bloom into adulthood, where we learn to balance both the present and future with equal joy.