It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. After a busy Sunday morning. Lunch was over. I had just settled the boys in their beds for naps and went to check on little bit. She asked me if I would nap with her. I told her I would after I cleaned the kitchen. I figured she’d be asleep before she called me on it.
After I cleaned up and ate lunch, I decided to see if I could figure out why our computer stopped working. I leaned into the boys rooms and they were sound asleep. Then I peeked in to her room, and she smiled right back at me. She was waiting for me. She patted the spot next to her on the bed and said, “I saved a ‘pot for you.” I grinned back at her and walked into the room. Then she pointed to the pillow laying next to her own and said, “I pudda pillow out.” It was all I could do to keep from bursting into tears. She was waiting up, she cleared a spot on her bed for me, and she’d even gotten me a pillow to lay my weary head on right next to her. Well, there was no work to be done at that point. I crawled into bed with her. She checked to make sure I didn’t need covers. Then she rolled over to face me and held my hand. Her little face was six inches from my own. I smoothed her hair and kissed her face and prayed she would remember this 10 years from now. I fell asleep minutes later. And I don’t even nap.
We are all in such a hurry. I am the worst offender. Oh, but I almost missed this. I almost hurried myself right past this sweet time. And she probably would have fallen asleep eventually without me, but then I wouldn’t have followed through on my promise and she would have gone to sleep sad. I don’t want to hurry past these moments. I don’t want to miss even one if I can help it.
Right on the heels of this sweet moment with my three year old little girl, I was confronted with how blind society has become to how they are artificially maturing and sexualizing our young girls without any pushback. Little bit has been in ballet and tap this year. Her recital is in a couple of months. Her two costumes just came home. Her “bumblebee” costume was indecent enought to make me send a sharply worded note to the school and request a refund. It had a small halter top in yellow and black with a sheer mesh insert connecting the top to these little bottoms that didn’t start until below her belly button. She is three. Along with this ridiculous outfit, the note said she needed to wear heavy makeup. I get they’re on stage, but at three do they really need saucy outfits with heavy makeup? Is anyone else bothered? Did the other moms get these “costumes” and feel their blood boil? I felt like I’d just signed up for a bad episode of that reality little kid pagent show. The idea of this little one who still says “pot” instead of spot getting dressed up in a tiny “tap bikini” for a recital before an adult mixed gender audience is unbelievable to me. There is no question that she will not be in ballet next year, but what about now? What is our reaction? One parent won’t effect change, but couldn’t we all voice our concern that decisions are finally outlandish enough to warrant some restraint?
I love my sweet girl. I refuse to go along to get along. We’re going to play with baby dolls and sing Twinkle Twinkle and curl up in her butterfly painted room for a little while longer before the world tries to steal her innocence.