This morning, Isabel and I climbed up onto my bed with two of her dollies. We cleaned her room yesterday, thus unearthing her collection of dolly diapers, diaper bags and baby dolls themselves. We arranged everything over by her pram and this morning it was so easy to pull out for play. Hooray!
So Isa was marching around the house with her babies and we ended up relaxing in my room, sans brothers. At one point I said, “should we go see what your brothers are up to?” “No,” was her immediate reply.
It was the sweetest little time. She would burp the babies and then ask me to change the diaper. Then we would lay them on the bed and cover them. And then Isa would pick one up and start the process all over again.
Just like real life!
At one point, Isa looked over at me and noticed a little skin peeling off my shoulder. We are all molting around here, thanks to our overexposure at the beach last week. Isa noticed the skin and pulled a piece off. “Dat better?” she asked.
Sometimes I focus on all the ways girls and boys are alike. Because whenever someone says something like “my boys are so [insert wild behavior here]” there is invariably someone with a daughter who did that very thing, and worse. And I also understand boys can be nurturing. But there are so many things Isa does that we have never seen around here, and it kind of blows my mind. (In all my years of having boys never once did they get a handful of sunscreen and walk around offering to put it on everyone’s shoulders for them. Isa is such a little mama.)
There is a fundamental difference between boys and girls and whether there are variations on that theme or not, what I see in my daughter is so inherently different from what I ever saw in her brothers. After almost two-and-a-half years with a daughter, it amazes me still.
Or maybe it’s only just starting to amaze me.