Some mothers sit around and worry about the day when their young girl will turn into a teenager and their friends will suddenly start putting peer pressure on them to do things that would keep said moms on their knees all night in prayer. I, however, don't worry about that.
Why? Because you, my dear, march to the beat of your own drummer.
I present to the court Exhibit A:
On a cold winter's afternoon, when the sun is reflecting off of the snow in the backyard and shining directly in your eyes while you are sitting in your pj's minding your own business and trying to eat your lunch, you see no need to sit there and squint uncomfortably just because no one else has any good sense. You just put your sunglasses on and happily (and comfortably) finish your lunch.
Exhibit B:
After a frigid morning playing outside in the snow with Dada and Anna, you don't come inside to get warm and ask for the traditional (aka boring and expected) hot chocolate and marshmallows. Not you. You come in and ask for a popsicle.
Why?
Because you want one.
Enough said.
That 'a girl!
Love, Mommy
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