What are little girls made of?

In a casual conversation with someone without little girls the other day, she mentioned that the thing she missed about having no girls was the cute clothes. I agreed slowly.
I've been guilty of saying the same thing about clothes, reducing my children to nothing more than mannequins to dress up and show off and perhaps make a statement about myself.
Now that I have a little girl, I confess, the clothes are fun.
But Madeira is obviously so much more than what she wears.
She is sweet. She is clever.
She can be a princess. She can be tough. She can be funny or whiny or longsuffering.
She is a little mongoose, eaten up from nose to tail with curiosity.
She will have what you're having at the table, thankyouverymuch.
She is not a great napper, an OK sleeper. She is a decent napper, a great sleeper.
She has a trademark expression. (Yes, I would like a dollar for every time someone has commented that "she looks so concerned...")

She is a one toothed wonder.
She is a miracle, a blessing, a gift.

But one thing is certain: she has her mama right where she wants her. I would do anything for this little lady.