Fiona in a Box

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Fiona likes to climb into boxes.

She’s five now, but I can’t tell you the number of photos I’ve seen of her crammed into everything from shoeboxes (yes it was tight and most of her stuck out!) to pulled-out drawers (with all the tutus, skirts and sweaters on her body) to the odd-shaped cardboard boxes from Amazon.

She’s a skinny little thing, but not that small.

The other thing about Fiona, is that I have never seen a baby, toddler or little girl scowl so much. Not pouty frowns or petulant whimpers, but a head-lowered, gimlet-stare at the adults around her, as if we have offended her beyond forgiveness and she is too aristocratically polite to say anything. I admit, it may be a trick of her part-Asian heritage the way her eyebrows tilt down a little, but it’s not as if she’s full of the giggles like some little girls.

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And we all love this fiercely independent soul. We watch with metaphorically bated breath to see what kind of amazing human being she will continue to evolve into. And we’re sure that’s the path she is on. It’s as though her spirit is so big, she stuffs her body into boxes to contain it because, after all, it is a little girl body and the future is still waiting to be made.