Oh Daughter

India woke up at 6:00 this morning. I brought her in to bed with me in a desperate attempt to lure her back to sleep. She kept popping up, whispering to me about how dark it was, playing peek-a-boo with the blankets. She thinks it's funny when I close my eyes and try to sleep. She thinks I'm playing games.
I'm not.
Unless you count it as a game, me trying not to eat her. She snuggled up to me after half an hour of this, put both of her little hands on my cheeks and looked into my eyes. Push over that I am, I fell in love again.
If she were a man, I wouldn't trust her. She plays around with my heart as if it were a rubber ball. One minute she's screaming at me, the next she's holding my face saying, "You want a hug, my love?"
Last night was a difficult night. I had a phone call that angered me and an unannounced visit that hurt. India watched me as I cooked supper, trying to deal with my emotions, imagining she had no idea what was going on.
She looked at me and said, "You angry mama?"
She's two and she already understands me so well.
I am alternately afraid and amazed at the reflection of myself that I see in her. The words she chooses, the faces she makes, the kindness and impatience she displays are little pieces of me. She's so kind and so cruel. She's so Shakespearian. There are no dilutions in her personality. Just pure India, learning to express herself in the ways that I teach her.
My gracious.
My goodness.
Heaven help me.