One of the wonderful treats of fatherhood (and parenthood, I suppose) is to watch these little humans develop free will. When they do stuff on their own volition, it’s adorable and amazing at the same time.

Naturally, however, the practical application of this maturation is fraught with good and bad.

The good: The solo dance and soccer party that L held in her room tonight. For the better part of 30 minutes, she rocked out to the dorky jingles from this Fisher Price “Learning Home” she received for her birthday last month (thanks, Grandma and Grandpa). She bopped. She swayed. She shook her booty. And every time she started thinking we weren’t watching, she stood up and clapped to make sure she still had our attention.

This display was followed by 15 minutes of chasing a ball around her room. She’d kick it, run after it and screech when she caught up to it.

Adorable? Yes. (And for you football fans, there’s no way to prove recent World Cup matches inspired this behavior, so don’t even try.)

Of course the flipside of this paroxysm of free will was what my lovely daughter pulled this morning. After passing around 6:30 p.m. last night, L woke up for the day at 3:15 a.m. As in, 15 minutes after three in the morning.

On a normal week, this only would have been inconvenient. But because I didn’t actually go to sleep until 2 a.m. myself last night, L’s early-morning wake-up was, quite frankly, torture.

All I wanted to do was snuggle and go back to bed. All she wanted to do was read and play with her stuffed animals. We locked horns in a standoff for five squinty minutes. Then I caved. She was too cute at that hour to disappoint. Beside, there was no better way to celebrate another Father’s Day (and this blog’s one-year anniversary) than spending more time with L.