From the Corner of His Eye

Celestina, who was packing dolls, coloring books, tablets, and a large collection of crayons into a zippered satchel.
        Though she was only a week past her third birthday, Angel always selected her own clothes and carefully dressed herself. Usually she preferred monochromatic outfits, sometimes with a single accent color expressed only in a belt or a hat, or a scarf. When she mixed several colors, the initial impression that she gave was of chromatic chaos-but on second look, you began to see that these unlikely combinations were more harmonious than they had first seemed.
        For a while, Celestina had worried that the girl was slower to walk than other children, slower to talk, and slower to develop her vocabulary, even though Celestina read aloud to her from storybooks every day. Then, during the past six months, Angel had caught up in a rush though she traveled a road somewhat different from what the childrearing books described. Her first word was mama, which was fairly standard, but her second was blue, which for a while came out "boo." At three, an average child would be doing exceptionally well to identify four colors; Angel could name eleven, including black and white, because she was able routinely to differentiate pink from red, and purple from blue.
        Wally-Dr. Walter Lipscomb, who delivered Angel and who became her godfather-never worried when the girl seemed to be developing too slowly, counseling that every child was an individual, with his or her particular learning pace. Wally's double specialty-obstetrics and pediatrics-gave him credibility, of course, but Celestina had worried, anyway.
        Worrying is what mothers do best. Celestina was her mother, as far as Angel was concerned, and the child was not yet of an age to be told, and to understand, that she had been blessed with two mothers: the one who gave birth to her, and the one who raised her.
        Recently, Wally administered to Angel a set of apperception tests for three-year-olds, and the results indicated that she might not ever be a math whiz or a verbal gymnast, but that she might be highly talented in other ways. Her appreciation of color, her innate understanding of the derivation of secondary hues from the primary colors, her sense of spatial relationships, and her recognition of basic geometric forms regardless of the angle at which they were presented were all far beyond what was exhibited by other kids her age. Wally said she was visually, rather than verbally, gifted, that she would undoubtedly exhibit increasing precociousness in matters artistic, that she might follow Celestina's career path, and that she might even prove to be a prodigy.
        "Red Riding-Hood," Angel announced, studying herself in the mirror.
        Celestina finally zipped shut the satchel. "You better watch out for the big bad wolf."
        "Not me. Wolf better watch out," Angel declared.
        "You think you could kick some wolf butt, huh?
        "Bam!" Angel said, watching her reflection as she booted an imaginary wolf.
        Retrieving a coat from the closet, shrugging into it, Celestina said,
        "You should have worn green, Miss Hood. Then the wolf would never recognize you."
        "Don't feel like a frog today."
        "You don't look like one, either."
        "You're pretty, Mommy."
        "Why, thank you very much, sugarpie."
        "Am I pretty?"
        "It's not polite to ask for a compliment."
        "But am I?"
        "You're gorgeous."
        "Sometimes I'm not sure," said Angel, frowning at herself in the mirror.
        "Trust me. You're a knockout."
        Celestina dropped to one knee in front of Angel, to tie the drawstrings of the hood under the girl's chin.
        "Mommy, why are dogs furry?"
        "Where did dogs come from?"
        "I wonder about that, too."
        "No," Celestina said, "I mean, why are we talking about dogs all of a sudden?"
        " 'Cause they're like wolves."
        "Oh, right. Well, God made them furry."
        "Why didn't God make me furry?"
        "Because He didn't want you to be a dog." She finished tying a bow in the drawstrings. "There. You look just like an M&M."
        "That's candy."
        "Well, you're sweet, aren't you? And you're all bright red on the outside and milk chocolate inside," Celestina said, gently tweaking the girl's light brown nose.
        "I'd rather be a Mr. Goodbar."
        "Then you'll have to