My daughter is a real work of art

Before the birth of my daughter, I had visions of a little tiny mini me. I would dress her in pretty but conservative clothes and raise her to be a kind, caring and conservative human being.

I sensed things weren't about to go my way when she was about 2 years old.

One day we were shopping in the children's clothing department, looking for an Easter dress. I held up two pretty (but conservative) dresses and asked which one she liked best. She leaned past my two choices and pulled on a dress that was loaded with ruffles … a little hootchie mama number.

Well, I exerted my motherly rights (which I could still get away withbecause she was only 2) and picked out one of my two choices which fit into my concept of what was acceptable.

I got away with this dictatorship (not that she didn't try to overthrow the preset government from time to time with the threat of ruffles and hootchie mama fashion choices) up until she started going to high school.

While all her friends and peers were dressing in the school uniform of jeans and sweatshirts, Becky was channeling some inner earth mother/hippie being. She loved the longer peasant skirts and tops.

When she'd walk out of the house in the morning, I'd lament, "Where's my little mini me?"

I remember well the day we went shopping for her senior prom dress. I steeled myself for her selecting the most hootchie mama dress on the racks.

I braced myself for a little number that had more ruffles than a Carmen Miranda samba ensemble.

Again she surprised me. Instead she zoned in on a very mature, sophisticated haute couture number. It was a stunning sleeveless street-length sheath dress in a rich green and black brocade fabric with a matching detachable long skirt that exposed the front of the dress and her legs. It looked like something Audrey Hepburn's "Holly Golightly" would have worn to a 1960s cocktail party.

My conservative heart began to swoon. All I could think of was the reaction of her peers when she walked into the prom, knowing she would be the only one in such a dress and stand out, instead of blending in. I tried to steer her to the beautiful, tasteful styles I knew all her friends would be wearing, even trying to entice her with one with ruffles.

But her heart was set on the Holly Golightly dress, and I had to admit she looked fabulous in it.

Even though I was scared for her to make her entrance in it, I admired her for being true to herself. She carried it off brilliantly.

As she grew older, and became more and more her own person, it never failed to amaze me that she came from my loins.

Becky still likes to express herself in her choice of dress. While visiting her last month in Texas, she planned on taking us to visit the Kimbell Art Museum in Fort Worth for the "Botticelli to Braque: Masterpieces from the National Galleries of Scotland" exhibit.

She asked me to help her figure out how to wrap herself up in a new dress she had bought. This thing was so complicated, it came with written instructions. After a few tries, we got it.

Did I mention that she loves ladies' vintage hats? Well, as a final touch, she added a lovely little pink floral number from the 1950s to her ensemble. As she walked out the door I thought, "Only Becky."

I was enthralled at the museum.

Here I was, standing in front of paintings by some of the most famous artists in the world, spanning more than 400 years of artistic production, works of the greatest painters from the Renaissance to the early 20th century. This rare presentation of masterpieces included works of Botticelli, Vermeer, Rembrandt, Claude Monet, Picasso, Braque, Gauguin and Picasso.

I was up front and personal with Botticelli's serene "Virgin and Child," Rembrandt's "A Woman in Bed," "Old Woman Cooking Eggs" by Velézquez along with Thomas Gainsborough portraits and landscapes.

I was so close, I was asked to step back from one of my two favorites, the portrait of a London beauty, "Lady Agnew of Lochnaw" by John Singer Sargent and then later from Monet's "Poplars at the River Epte."

Among all these great works of art, my daughter wandered into my view. I watched her as she gazed at a painting that touched her heart. I saw her in her choice of dress that day standing next to an incredible painting. She was beautiful. Her beauty surpassed anything else in the room.

And I realized, she was a great work of art.

There is a quote by Amy Lowell that says, "Art is the desire of a man to express himself, to record the reactions of his personality to the world he lives in."

Becky's choice in what she wears is a form of her expression. Who am I to say it is acceptable or not?

My daughter has become wiser than her own mother. In a conversation we had later that evening while cooling off in the hotel swimming pool, she told me that she does not judge people by their outward appearance and would hope others would do the same with her.

I cringed as I knew I had been guilty of that for years.

But that afternoon, I realized that even though I did not give birth to a little mini me, (Thank God!) Becky has grown into a kind and caring human being … everything a mother could ask for.

And in my book, she is one of a kind, a masterpiece, my great work of art.