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PARTY OF TWO: Who will you be when you grow up?

I don’t know who I am anymore.
I’m a blank canvas. A clean slate.
At least I am until my daughter, whose imagination outweighs her by about a thousand pounds, wakes up and decides who she wants me to be.
“You’re Hannah Montana today,” Angie will say. “And I’m Miley Cyrus.”
“Umm, OK,” is my usual response.
I play along because that’s what makes her happy — creating a fantasy world with her own ideas and daydreams.
So Hannah Montana it is. I sing. I dance. I sucker kids into spending their allowances on my tacky merchandise.
Then just when I’ve finally remembered the words to her songs, it’s over.
“All right, now you’re a dog,” Angie says. “And I’m your owner.”
And so go our days; we take turns being Hannah and Miley, a shark and a killer whale, a princess and a frog.
She’ll be Nemo, and I’ll be his overprotective father, Marlin.
She’ll be Herbie, the elf who wants to be a dentist, and I’ll be Santa Claus.
She’ll be Wyatt, the adorable two-year-old from daycare, and I’ll be the teacher, Louise.
It’s enough to make your head spin.
But, as they say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
When I was Angie’s age, I spent hours drawing princesses — lovely, lifesize princesses with flowing pink dresses and long blond hair. According to my mother, I ignored anyone who failed to address me as Cinderella.
When I got a little older, I would beg my cousin Betsy to braid my hair with ribbon so I could be Andromeda, the pretty but helpless princess in Clash of the Titans.
Angie, however, has no interest in princesses. She’d rather be a great white shark or a Tyrannosaurus rex — which is totally cool.
“I’m a carnivore, Mommy,” she said one day. “And you’re a herbivore.”
Then she stomped around our kitchen, singing “I’m a ferocious dinosaur!” in her deepest, most savage voice.
“I’m the biggest dinosaur that ever lived!” she said. “I’m a . . . I’m a . . . wait, what am I again, Mommy?”
I’m glad I’m not the only one losing track of our personas.
Stretching the imagination is good for children, experts say, because it teaches empathy for others, builds self esteem and introduces the differences between fantasy and reality. It also increases vocabulary and strengthens problem-solving skills.
That’s all great stuff. But I like it for other reasons.
I like that Angie is thinking beyond her boundaries. If she feels like being a dog, then she is one. If she feels like being a veterinarian, then she is one.
And if she feels like being herself, then that’s who she is.
Also, we live in a very small town, where if you become a certain something for 20 minutes, then there’s a chance you’ll remain that certain something for the next 20 years.
It’s easy to get labeled here. And it’s far too easy to get stuck wearing that label for a lot longer than it feels valid.
I want Angie to know that she can be anything she wants to be (well, maybe not a dog). And when she’s tired of being that, she can change her mind and be something else. She can reinvent herself over and over again if she wants to.
So far, she seems to understand that. And I’m thankful.
I think my daughter’s vivid imagination holds a lesson for me too.
I need to realize that nothing is too big, too crazy or too wonderful to happen. Life takes some funny turns, and I’m going to let it take me away to places I never expected to be.
I need to remember that if I can imagine it, then I can accomplish it. So instead of clinging to what I think I am, I will be open to the possibilities of what I might become.
Sounds like life would be more fun that way, doesn’t it?
I am excited to see what Angie will become someday — and excited to see what’s in store for me too. No matter who or what my daughter eventually grows up to be, she will always have the love and support of her mother.
I mean Hannah.
I mean Marlin.
I mean…
Whoever I am.

Wendy Fontaine’s “Party of Two” column appears the first and third Sundays of the month. Her e-mail address is: party2fontaine@gmail.com. You can also follow Party of Two on Facebook.