Purple Piggies and Pink Pinkies

There are no words to describe the delight I felt when I finally found out I was having a girl. I love my boys, and would never trade them for anything. That said, my heart longed for a dainty little girl. I just imagined all the fun things I could do with her hair, the tea parties we could have, and the shopping we could do. It is, after all, common knowledge that girl clothes are much more fun than boy clothes.
Then she was born.

As a baby, and really up until the last month or so, Pretty has been essentially bald. She does sport a lovely mullet, but that really doesn't count. In desperation, I did try putting pony tails in her mullet, but she just pulled those out leaving a tangled mess, and people wondering why this strange little orphan child kept following me around. The King and I are just sure she'll be crushed when she looks back on her bald-headed little baby pictures. We've vowed to just tell her it was very windy in the delivery room.

I could get past the bald head because I was just sure she would still be the dainty little pixie I'd planned on her being. She'd want to play house with me, cuddle with her baby dolls, and wear all her pretty little dresses every single day. She'd be gentle and cuddly and soft spoken. This is what I pictured my baby girl to be. Boy was I wrong!

The very important thing I forgot to take into account is that Pretty has two stinky brothers. They run, jump, yell, play with balls, and do other disgusting boy-type things. They are also her two of her three favorite people in the world. (The other is her daddy). And, they've taught her everything they know. She would rather die than wear a dress, baby dolls and cuddling are the last thing on her mind, and she's anything but dainty and soft spoken.

I was just getting ready to give up on ever really having a "girly" daughter (unless you count the drama that comes with girls. She's got more of that wrapped up in her pinky finger than all the daytime soaps put together). I had come to accept that she was forever going to prefer blue jeans and sneakers and messy hair and blocks and balls and bats over anything else.

And then it happened. I could never have expected it, but it really did happen. While I was getting ready for the day (at 11am...yeah, I'm slow sometimes), she came into the bathroom and found my nail polish. She delighted in all the pretty colors in the bottles, though she wasn't totally sure what they did. She inspected each and every bottle sometimes even banging them on the side of the tub to see what they do. I wondered what would happen if I tried to paint her nails. Would her head spin around several times before finally exploding?

I put her on my lap and we counted her fingers. Then, I applied the paint. And she liked it!!!! She sat and scrutinized every single nail with delight. I'll never forget the giggles as I put that cold paint on her tiny little nails. When we were done, she tried to eat the polish off, but I'll pretend that part didn't happen so I can bask longer in her girl moment.

She went back to the collection of bottles and brought me another one. This one was pale purple. She put it in my hand and turned her back to me, so I could pick her up. She wanted her fingers done again, but I wasn't ready to go there. So, I painted her tiny little toenails. She sat quietly mesmorized by what I was doing. When all was said and done, she was so proud of her fingers and toes.





From there, she went back to tearing apart the play room and banging on walls and looking for bats. But, for a fleeting moment, I got to enjoy my little girl in a quiet little "Mommy and Me" moment.