I have officially entered the world of little girls...again. Seeing Annalise begin to respond to dolls and toys has made my memory bloom vividly with my childhood. I am walking around in a daze that smells like Strawberry Shortcake and Barbie hair. I remember twirling around in long skirts and putting pillowcases on my head to pretend it is either my long hair or my head covering while I am Mary, mother of Jesus. Don't all little girls pretend that they are the mother of God? Just me? Well, that fits.
I tell you what, ribbons and lace might just be the most fun thing in the world to a mother of sons who has only previously experienced small-scale explosives, foul smells, and anything bug related. Though my little girl passes gas like a locomotive, growls better than her brothers, and can blow snot a full 10 inches out her nose, she is cuddly, good-smelling, and loves to listen to me talk to her. I spend my morning with her in her high chair in the kitchen, talking and singing to her while I clean and cook. Just when I think my heart will swell up with estrogen-laced pride, I look over at her and she very stoically says, "blah, blah, blah, blah..." She always finishes her sentence with a big grin, completely oblivious to my great and wonderful wisdom that she has just dismissed. Oh well. Someday we'll have nice long chats over pretend tea and then I'll blog about all her crazy questions and sayings and try and remember the days when she couldn't even talk. At least I won't be the only one wearing a tutu around the house anymore.
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