Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Heart of Gold

We are strolling through the grocery store, Jemma perched up in the seat of the cart, the better to see things and ask for them.  On this trip, she's wheedled her way into getting apple cider, bananas, and cheese sticks, none of which were on my list.  We're heading toward the deli when she says, out of nowhere, "In TWO MONTHS it'll be my birthday!"  She makes her eyes big and looks at me, waiting for a reaction.

"It will!" I agree, and inside I am rebelling against having to say she is four.  I want to keep saying that she is three ("free") for several more months, possibly several more years.  But she is already moving on, listing the things she wants for her birthday.  I am trying to pay attention (the better to write these things down when we get home, or else my brain will never remember) when she stops, mid-item, and changes direction.

"And then for Annie, we should get a pink Cinderella dress."  She nods firmly.

"It's not going to be Annie's birthday," I say.  "Also, Cinderella has a blue dress, and we already have it."

"She has a pink dress, the one that the stepsisters ruin when they're mad at her," she says, and I agree, she does, though I am not sure if that dress is ever in a store.  And again, I mention, it's not Annie's birthday.

"I don't want Annie to be sad when I open my presents and she doesn't get any" she insists.

"Well, when it was Annie's birthday, you didn't get presents.  You just knew that it would be your turn to get presents in December," I remind her.  She does not disagree with this, but she is not changing her mind.  She wants to get Annie some presents.  She wants to get Annie some presents on the occasion of her fourth birthday.  She wants to get her a pink Cinderella dress, and shoes to match.

This girl.  We don't deserve her.

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