I gave Red Feather a nuzzle on Sunday, again thanking him for keeping my baby safe during her second horseback riding lesson.

It seems my just-turned six-year old has found her calling.

I know every little girl loves horses. I did at her age. I still do. I’m not sure what it is…for me it was that whole fuzzy, furry, lovable ‘pet’ thing…but also the power associated with a horse. I felt much more than my age when atop a horse. And my tiny peanut of a daughter…all 36lbs of her…must feel strong and sure as she grabs the reigns and clicks her heels.

36lbs and she’s telling this majestic creature where to go and what to do…and she does it without hesitation and without fear. Her tiny voice yelling “JUMP!” or “Woah!” is really enough to make you laugh a bit, thinking this powerful animal will obey…but Red Feather dutifully does as she commands, thus giving her confidence and even more spunk as she attempts to post at a faster trot.

And a cowgirl emerged.

Maybe my little girl’s love of riding won’t last long. Maybe this is another phase. But I doubt it. This is the two-year old who wanted nothing more than to ride a horse. This is the three-year old that wanted nothing more than to ride a horse. This is the four-year old that wanted nothing more than to ride a horse. This is the five-year old that insisted for her sixth birthday she was getting on a horse.

…and now she may never get off.

I’ve watched her wish for it while staring dreamily out her bedroom window.

But Mom, why won’t it ever snow here? Why? It’s winter. Winter means snow.

I’ve heard her bemoan sunny Southern California for its palm trees and sunshine, begging for just a tiny bit of white powder.

I’ve even caught her wishing on the first evening star.

Last night, she and her brother threw snowballs at each other in their own yard.

Tonight I just might have her wish for a few other things.

There is just something about the tiny things that make me love so hard it hurts. One of them? When I watch my husband brush my daughter’s hair.

He’s just doing what we do every morning. Shuffling between the chaos and routine of getting ready for school, I grab my camera because we all have those moments. The ones where you stop and look around and see the man you love, carefully and almost with a bit of fright, trying to untangle the mess left by a night spent with too many teddy bears and puppies.

It’s so simple really, and so wonderful.

But there is something about that Dad-Daughter bond that I watch with my husband and little one, and I have with my father. It really is special and one-of-a-kind. The trust. The love. And just the way she patiently lets her Daddy brush and comb, a task that would have garnered shrieks had I been the one getting her ready.

I know their relationship will change. They will argue, they will be close and then not-so-close. And over time they will tangle and untangle and I will remember mornings. And brushes. And combs. And the loving hand of Dad.