Last night, Twin A was doing one of her American Girl quizzes with Little Miss about what she will be when she grows up. When all her answers pointed to “movie star,” I said, “Wow! Do you want to be a movie star?” wondering if she even knew what a movie star was. (Are there any movie stars anymore anyway?)
“Yeah,” she said, “but I’d rather be a mom. I just want to be a mom.”
“Awwww,” the twins and I said in unison. That is so sweet to hear and reinforcement that it really is OK to be “just a mom” sometimes.
Then she went on with her plans:
“I’m going to have two kids and their names are going to be Ashley and Sabannah.” (I’m pretty sure she meant “Savannah,” a name that occasionally comes up in the twins’ chatter about school. But Sabannah’s a cute name, too.)
“But what if you have boys?” I asked. “Then what would you name them?”
She looked at me like I had just told her that Santa wasn’t coming to town.
“I only want them to be girls,” she said.
“But what if God gives you boys? Then what?” I asked.
“Well, then I will tell you that I wanted them to be girls,” she said, matter-of-factly.
“And what will I do?”
“You would return them,” she said.
I, the queen of returning due to my indecisiveness, wasn’t at all surprised at her answer.
“You can’t just return a baby like it’s something you return to a store,” I explained.
“Oh.”
And that was that. I think I squelched her dream of being a mom.
It’s not that she doesn’t like boys, even though she’s growing up in an estrogen-drenched household. It’s all about the hair. She loves long hair. In her mind, if a woman has short hair, she’s a “lady,” and if a woman has long hair, she’s a “girl,” no matter how old they are.
I am a girl. That’s good, because I’m not ready to be a lady.
Her grandmothers are “ladies,” the twins’ teachers are “ladies,” but the weathered Safeway cashier with the long gray hair is a “girl.”
The only problem with this hair thing is only people with long hair can give her a bath or wipe her bottom. Which means there are tears and sometimes constipation when I’m not around to do those things for her.
Sometimes I think, what if I lose my hair due to illness or a fire or something, then what? Or even if I want to get a shorter hairstyle, for goodness sake!
“What if I had no hair sometime, or short hair? Would you still love me?” I asked her recently.
“Um, a little bit. I’ll say a little, OK?”
Ouch.
This is one phase I hope she outgrows soon. Either that, or she’d better hope that Fabio is available when she’s ready to start dating.
Enjoyed the story and had to laugh when you talked about the hair length. I know from first hand experience that Little Miss REALLY looked at me with that I don’t like your short hair, Grandma, look after I got my hair cut.
I remember when you were little you always said if you had twins someday that you would name them Nutmeg and Cinnamon. I sure was holding my breath at the hospital when you told us what you and BK named the girls. Whew!
Thanks. I’d rather be the lady instead of the “weathered” cashier with long hair.
It is so easy to be bursting with pride with each of them.
Pop fixed the printer. I printed it all out & we started reading them & got carried away. We ALMOST ate after dark. Oh, no!