My daughter, only two, is not overly feminine. She prefers Winnie the Pooh and Monsters, Inc. to Tangled and Cinderella (for now). She likes monkey t-shirts and leggings more than dresses. She is girly but rough-and-tumble too. I let her beautiful curly hair go wild on many days–I like her when she’s a bit disheveled and covered in kid sweat.
Though Nora is not 100 percent girly-girl, she has already channeled her maternal instincts. Night after night, she plays with her baby dolls, and she nearly lost her mind when I won three bags of Barbie-baby (and Stacie) dolls and accessories last weekend at an auction. The babies get fed with miniature bottles and strolled in the umbrella stroller. Her favorite miniature doll, aptly named Teeny Tiny, gets lost all of the time and sheer panic ensues (in fact, she is missing as I write this). When we drive home from daycare, she always exclaims “Play Babies!!!”
My nurturing daughter also loves mothering her little brother. When we bathe Carson, she gets all of the supplies, chooses his pajamas, and even dumps out the water from his baby bath into the tub. When her enthusiasm impedes on my abilities to mother him, I have to tell her, “Nora, you are Carson’s big sister, NOT his mama, go play!” It’s not such a bad problem to have.
Nora’s compassion and love for others is something that I hope never changes.