“What are little girls made of? Sugar and spice and all things nice.”
With an added mix of moxie, mettle and spunk in spades. I can’t speak for all households, but in this humble abode little girls rule the roost. And by little girls. I mean just one.
One little girl. Who has the capacity to make me cry with laughter and wail with frustration. Six years in and we already seem to clash on every point yet it is clear to see she is fast becoming my greatest friend.
She’ll argue black is pink
We have a thing about teeth at the minute. She’ll swear she’s brushed them until she’s blue in the face. Yet when you check her brush it is bone dry. She has even been known to go to the trouble of splashing water on her school cardigan to use as evidence she’s brushed them. In the time it takes for this charade to be played out she could have brushed her teeth 19 times.
She is the centre of her own universe
In a cripplingly cold family walk a few weeks back, the April showers opened on us all unexpectedly so we had to dart back to the car and blast up the heaters. We were all numb with the frost and giggling about the fact we couldn’t feel our fingers. A little voice piped up from the back “Hey I’m freezing over here.” Erm… yes my darling as are we all. Conversations will be in full flow at the dinner table about an array of subjects but guaranteed at every turn she’ll attempt to turn to topics back to herself. “How many yogurts can I have for my pudding?” “When I am 87 how old will you be?”
My way or the high way
She had me harassed (HARASSED I TELL YOU) this morning because she wanted to bring in sweets for her whole class to celebrate the fact her brother had made his first holy communion at the weekend. “But it’s not your birthday?!” “It wasn’t even your celebration?!” “We don’t have any?!” None of this mattered and she stood her ground. Yes she won. I hope her 30 classmates enjoy their blooming sweets today!!! And the clothes clash every weekend sends me insane. “No – pink tights do not go with green stripes and no you can’t wear my lipstick to church. Or my bra. It’s just no. Okay.”
|I want all of these shoes, rubies in my crown and the world please.
On a pink plate – thanks x
She has an innate sense of injustice
She’s one of them – fight you for a pound but give you a hundred. If you are sharing sweets she calculates to the nearest crumb what everyone has. That’s not fair is her mantra and knows exactly whose turn it is to sit in the front of the car and sleep on the top bunk at Nanny’s house even if weeks have passed. But then will flash moments of blinding kindness to her little brother and cousins when no one is looking.
She likes “doing jobs”
She loves doing a little chore or going on a message. Forgotten the baby wipes mid-poo nappy change and she is the gal to have around. She’ll whizz upstairs eager to please. On Mother’s Day she insisted that Gabe’s school-made card was hers as she was his second mummy. I couldn’t argue. She’ll be the one picking him up when he topples over, reading him stories in his cot if he wakes too early in the morning and singing Twinkle Twinkle in a funny voice just to get a giggle.
|Come to your second mummy for a complete crush|
She holds grudges
I am not inviting Penny to my party this year okay Mummy!
Sure my little buttercup, but why?
Because she said she’d finished her work before me yesterday and it wasn’t even finished. And then she jumped the queue at lunch in front of Sally and that is just mean.
Okay, shall we worry about this in eight month’s time when it is actually your birthday.
Yes but she’s still not coming.
She spooks easy
She has a strange fascination with kidnappers. A week won’t go by without her whispering before bed: “Mummy I am scared that the kidnappers are going to come for me tonight.” For some reason I have an evil Peter Kay in the John Smith advert urge to say it is the robbers you need to worry about more. She’ll fret for hours. To the point I am wide awake at every noise outside waiting for the children pirates to arrive with their ghost ship and swipe my prized possessions and take them to Scary Mountain. Must stop having a wine before bed as it sends my imagination wild.
She wraps her daddy around her little finger
If I say no, he’ll be sure to say yes. And she knows it. I sort of admire it on some level. It is cunning and artfully done and the boys haven’t a clue.
“Hello Daddy are you okay? Was work good fun? Shall we have a biscuit? Shall I get it for you? No, no honestly I don’t mind.”
“Mummy doesn’t think it’s a good idea to wear red lipstick to church, but I think I’ll look pretty don’t you? And do you like my pink tights and green dress? Would you like a little hug from me because I love you.”
What are little girls made of?
Lovely pig-headed beautiful awesome stuff.
Stuff, that if you could buy it in the shops, would sell out in seconds.
|Her first Government meeting|