Every time I start to feel great about myself, my understanding of life and my place in the universe, I'm reminded of a feeling I have yet to learn to deal with or a battle I've yet to win with myself. Not that I don't go on feeling pretty terrific, but I am always reminded that I am a work in progress.

Lately I find most of the more profound lessons come in the form of my two year old niece.

Talk about humbling.

She loves with abandon and without limit. She always has enough kisses and hugs for everyone in the room, whether it be 2 or 20. She gets excited over small things, and doesn't fret when the balloon blows away. "It blew away", she said, as if all along, the sky was meant to have it.

She gets tired and cranky but also will just laugh right out loud for no apparent reason.

She doesn't care what anyone thinks, announcing to a man as we passed by his table in a restaurant, "We are going to the potty." He laughed, and then I laughed.

She hugs and pays attention to nearly any relative who will play with her, not minding that the rest of us might not like that particular relative. She makes purple play-doh pizza with blue spaghetti on top. She tells people where she wants them to sit, asks what they are doing, invites them to take off their shoes and coats.

She sings. She dances. She giggles and squeals with excitement when her mommy lets her "drive" the car through the neighborhood. Never mind that she's only steering the wheel down the street to the house, and honking the horn. She wants to try on all her new clothes right now. She wants to climb the bookshelf to get the eggs hidden on the top shelf.

Every single thing is full of promise, joy and excitement. Every thing is an adventure. Every food is meant to be tasted, even if it means pulling fruit out of the dessert bowl.

I want to be just like Isabella when I grow up. And fall asleep at the end of the day, tuckered out, in my big girl bed.