Tuesday, October 23, 2012
House of Girls
I love having two daughters, but I often laugh at the estrogen filled problems that come with it. I don't think a lot of brothers have the arguments that my girls have. I'll find my daughters having a screaming, tear filled fight and for two seconds I'll actually believe that something serious is wrong. Then I'll hear one of them yell, "But she tried to ruin my dance!" You wouldn't believe the waterworks that have spilled over ruined dances in this house.
In a house of daughters, you must choose your words carefully. For instance, if I accidentally say, "Get Dressed", I know that neither child will leave house in anything other than a dress. The term "dressed" can only be interpreted as "put on a dress". If I want my girls to wear pants or shorts, I have to say, "Put on your day clothes". On the same note, if one child is wearing a dress, then I know I can expect the other one to cry at least a few tears over the horrible injustice of being forced to wear shorts versus a dress. This problem happens with boots as well. If Sasha is wearing boots, Lyla MUST also have boots to wear. If I get it wrong, I'll never hear the end of it. I have been forced to turn the car around to right these types of wrongs.
Hair is another big issue in a house full of girls. The other day I was driving Lyla to pre-school, when she scared the crap out of me with a loud gasp. I turned off the radio and asked her what was wrong, expecting it to be something awful. She started to tear up as she informed me that I forgot to do her hair. It was brushed and smooth, but there were no barrettes or pony tails. She was genuinely alarmed that this detail had been overlooked. It was as serious as if I'd forgotten to put her pants on her. I forgave her for the mini heart attack she caused with her gasp, because she is too young to tell time. If she knew how late we were running that day, she wouldn't have wondered about her lack of "hair do".
I also wonder if boys would cry about being forced to hear song 7, when their hearts were set on song 9. This is biggie in our daily lives. Car rides are most pleasant when only one child is riding in the car. Lyla was playing DJ in the car yesterday. It was fine because it was just the two of us. She wanted to hear the old Cure song, Boys Don't Cry. My girls get such a kick out of this song. Lyla informed me that little boys DO cry. "Little boys at school cry. Grown up daddy's don't cry. Thems don't know how to do it right." So there you have grown men. You don't cry because you lack the proper technique. Out of the mouths of babes.