Nymphadora looks younger when she's sleeping. I know -- she is young, but even younger than her short five years. She sleeps with her arm curled around a stuffed hippo named Louisa. There are nights when after tucking her in, I watch her sleep and am marveled at the fact that five years ago I did not know her; this little person who has since changed my life completely.

Five years ago I wouldn't have known that a little girl's neck is the sweetest curve I've ever seen. I would never have considered knotting a dish towel into a bandana, pretending I was a pirate and stalking a stuffed frog for his buried treasure. The face I give to the world around me is not the one I save for Nymphadora. After years of seeing the world in nothing but absolutes, she has taught me to find shades of possibility.

I just want so much more for her than what our world has to offer. I had to punish her today for going outside without me. She knows better. I just think it's a terrible shame that times are so unstable that a child can't play in her backyard. There was one silver-lining, though. When I put her in time out, she thought I wasn't looking and she gave the most defiant little kick to the air. It was all I could do not to grin like mad.

Even in a time of war, my daughter hasn't lost her spirit.