Somewhere around 3 months, the little scratch under Laura's eye was suddenly not a scratch at all. It was a freckle. A little dot of brown. A beauty mark.
I love that freckle. I see the little dot under Laura's and love how fabulous and unique it is. It's all Laura's - no one has a freckle like hers. I get defensive about Laura's freckle too. Defensive toward all the little children who yell "What's wrong with her eye!" Toward all the random moms who try to rub the dirt away. Toward the other random strangers who ask how she got her boo-boo.
But of course, that's my reaction. My opinion. A harmless, beautiful little dot of character under her eye. A dot, her doctor tells me, she can have removed one day if it bothers her and she so chooses.
Laura has had this freckle for almost all her life. And yet, she is only just beginning to notice it. She is only recently becoming self-aware of her reflection in the mirror. She is so recently self-aware, in fact, that her freckle completely startled her the other morning:
Oh my gosh! Mommy! My EYE IS HURT! I have a boo-boo!
Haha, Laura! That is your freckle! You've had it your whole life (almost)!
I hab a fweckle?!
And if I hadn't laughed enough, the next morning:
Mom! I hab some mud on my face!
Hey Laura? That's your freckle, remember?
I love that little freckle. And that little girl. I wonder how Laura will come to feel about her new-found beauty mark when she is older? Will she love it as I have? Or will she choose one day to have it removed?