1 year, 4 months.
As I took some pictures of you and your brother before church on Sunday, I couldn’t help but notice the obvious visible contrast as the two of you stood next to one another:
You are all girl and your brother is all boy. I have one of each.
And I didn’t have to teach either of you to be that way, either.
Over the past couple of months, you have demonstrated how you always just instantly know what to do when Mommy presents you with a new pair of shoes or a new shoes.
You instinctively know how to walk across the room with a pretty smile on your face, assuming that the whole world is watching you.
Meanwhile, your brother is typically up to something to counteract your graceful moves; whether it’s trying to slap your leg with a sticky stretchy hand he got from the treasure box at school, or simply serving as an off-beat commentator in the beauty pageant you’re pretending to be in, as he speaks in an exaggerated Southern accent:
“Ah, how sweet! Look at little precious baby girl! I think she just pooped in her pants… isn’t that so precious?! She’s a little tin man. She’s just made out of metal. So precious!”
Sure, you may develop a natural interest in Pokemon cards, as your brother has already told me he’ll give you some of his cards once you get a little older.
And sure, you’re used to him wrestling with you and playing a little too rough with you, on a daily basis.
Yet still, you are one girly girl. You just have no chance of ever being a tomboy.
I’m sure it doesn’t help, the way I treat you…
The way you just cling onto me as I carry you around the house, constantly confirming what a sweet little girl you are.
Yeah, I guess you just don’t stand a chance at being anything other than a Daddy’s Girl.
At least, that’s what I hope!