Much to my delight, my three year-old daughter is a girly-girl. The moment she gets home from day care, she strips down to her panties and goes in search of a dress worthy of dancing in. (Lately, this has led to her wearing a flower girl dress from earlier this summer...it was white at one time.)
She loves Barbies, which was one of my favorite pastimes as a young girl. We dance like it's going out of style. She loves to brush her hair and wear lipgloss. The list goes on.
But while I often feel she's so caught up in being a girl, I have more often been bit by her keen remembrance of what her mother says and how she acts.
Just this past week, I heard her following her daddy around the house as he was moving some heavy furniture. She would call after him, "You know you're going to hurt yourself," or "Let me go in front of you daddy," as she wedged herself between the wall and whatever it was that he was moving. As she gabbed-and crabbed-at him, she never once stopped to let him react. Class mommy move.
Another fine example occurred this morning shortly after we got home from church. I was crabby at her father already and grumbled the entire time I made HIM breakfast. While he searched the TV for an old Western, my daughter caught me calling him a lazy ass. For the next five minutes, she strolled in and out of the living room asking daddy if he was going to get off of his lazy ass...and by the way, mommy's the one who said it. Her brother and I ended up repeatedly asking her to stop using potty language.
While I do correct her for some of the behavior, I mostly find myself finding a corner of the house where I can smile or laugh for a moment at how wonderful it is to have the opportunity to see myself in someone else. No matter if she's learning good or bad traits, it's a pretty amazing feeling.
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