Dear Rowan,

Where to begin?  Well…you are one year old. Thirteen months, actually…and all the world…err…hearth…is your stage…

On the hearth...


If you could talk, I’m positive you’d be shouting “Hey, look at me! Look what I can do!” You are fearless…you are a performer…you are Type A all the way (and you clearly get that from your mother). Unfortunately, performing around the fireplace {all of nine inches off the floor…max} makes Daddy just a little too uncomfortable to watch. Visions of you slipping, falling, and hitting your head on the tile are almost enough to make me want to dress you in a bubble wrap body suit.

So I take you down; I tell you no. You whine for a bit, but then you just scamper off onto your next heart-stopping escapade.


Like using your dump-truck as a step ladder to mount the coffee table.

Up she goes.

*Sigh…* you give me fits, child.

So I snatch you up once again.  You wrinkle your nose at me and whine for a few more minutes…but I’m telling you, daughter of mine…it’s for your own good.

Yes, I know the old saying: “the burned hand teaches best.” That may be so…but even if you were to smack your head on the tile or have your dump-truck roll out from under you…sure, you’d cry for a bit, but without a doubt, you’d up to your old antics in under 30 minutes flat.

Thankfully, I breathe a little easier when we play upstairs.  You see, we recently moved our soft microfiber couch in from our townhome and up into your playroom, upon which you immediately conquered.  You scaled its plushy cushions in no time…

Couch climbing.

…and then kicked, pranced, and pounced on your spoils…babbling all the way.



...and pouncing.

However, your dismount is still a work in progress.


Exposing Somersaults

And... she's down.

But quite hilarious, I might add.  Once you even tumbled over the side armrest while my back was turned, but even that hasn’t deterred you from your conquests.  No, we’re not laughing at you, baby girl, we’re laughing with you.

I guess all that I really want to say is:  Rowan, don’t ever change.  Yes, your mother and I could do with a little less whining from time to time, but please…don’t ever lose your courage…

your audacity…

or your fearlessness.

Love always…Dad.

{Side note:  yes, that is a mattress in the middle of our play room.  It was brought down from the loft to replace the one Aunt Shannon took to her apartment, only…it never made it that far.  The girls loved romping on it too much to part with, so there it has remained ever since.  It’s also a good place for mom or dad to vedge when everyone decides 5:15AM is a good time to wake up for the day…bonus!}

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About Tom Hardinge

Loving husband to my wife Missy, loving father to my four daughters Sienna, Rowan, Jovie, and Lola. I'm a chronic over-packer who loves good coffee, good music, running, waffle tee's, fleece pants, and Jesus Christ!

5 thoughts on “Fearless

  1. the picture of rojo sitting on the couch bouncing/kicking her legs is may favorite because i know the exact cute look she is making and it makes me miss those girls so much my chest wants to explode! can’t wait to see y’all this weekend!

    • Well my favorite is the one that looks like she is doing a cartwheel…Missy and I both just sat there and watched her go bottoms up and laughed hysterically! Then she did it again…so I took the pictures 😀

  2. Pingback: E-mail of the Week | living in pursuit

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