I still marvel at the absence of tomboy, her need to wear dresses and her attraction to pink border on hysterical. I look at her jeans with longing, the sight of her in them always made me smile. She will not wear them now, cannot endure the thought of leaving the house without a dress. And now purses, she cries for her purse and sunglasses.
I blend honor and indulgence, running a load of laundry nearly every night to ensure a clean princess nightgown for bed and a fresh dress for morning. Sometimes I begin to wonder if maybe, just maybe, I could coax her into jeans and a Red Sox tee. She answers emphatically, a no, as she naturally does something so irrefutably feminine and precious, that I pledge to respect and support her need for all things girlie.