I handed Kate a Dora band-aid yesterday and she– for the very first time ever– balked at me. “Mom, the other kids are still going to think I like DORA.”
Up until that very moment, neither Kate nor Joan has ever said or done anything to indicate that they were “too old”. When I get out some of their old toys or puzzles for Marin, they gleefully join her in playing. They also willfully play with Little People, or the doll house, or crazily gallop around the house on stick ponies with Marin.
They have different interests when they watch tv (iCarly, anyone?), but if I ask them to put on something for Marin, they will happily watch with her, just as “into it” as she is. They actually still DO like Dora, and up until now did not care who knew.
They still hold my hand, sit on my lap, want me to come to their school. Recently at an elementary dance, some of their peers were embarrassed to have their mom or dad dancing with them, but Joan and Kate proudly danced with their Daddy the entire night.
They have no awareness of their bodies, or of being embarrassed. That innocent light of early childhood still glows strong within them.
They often offer to read to Marin, because they still love the books that she loves.
At a restaurant, they fight over who gets to sit by me. It honestly has not yet occurred to them to be embarrassed by David or me or even Marin.
Every morning about 10 minutes before our alarm goes off, Kate climbs into bed next to me. She can never, ever get enough snuggles.
I get so weary of my children sometimes. So sick of being hung on, fought over. But when Kate didn’t want that Dora band-aid, I realized… the days of their little-girl-hood are numbered. Many of their peers have already moved on to the next stage. I’m excited to watch them grow up, but I’m also going to enjoy their little hand in mine for a little longer, while it lasts.
The local school levy did not pass. AGAIN. It lost by a very small margin.