You are one smart cookie. We often have deep conversations in the car. Today, you started asking questions about outer space. We talked about the sun, planets, comets, and galaxies. Your questions are endless.
"What are we called?" You asked.
"Earth," I replied.
You frowned a moment. "You mean planet Earth," you corrected before asking, "What are the other planets called?"
And then there was:
"Why is there a universe with everything in it?"
Oh, Maddie Bear, don't we all wish we knew.
You saw the cover of a book that illustrated the evolution of man, and you had a lot of questions about that.
"Why did people used to be monkeys?" you asked a few days later while driving around. Let me tell you, evolution is a very difficult concept to explain to a person with so little concept of time. A long, long time ago to you means when Mumma was a little girl.
You asked what people do at church so I told you that they talk about God and Jesus and how to be a good person. So then you had a lot of questions about Jesus, which you associated vaguely with swearing.
"Jesus Christ?" You repeated in bewilderment. "Why was his name Jesus Christ?"
I think you were very surprised to find out he was a person and not just something Mumma says when she gets mad. Sorry, Madeline.
At any rate, you're quite the little philosopher.
Meanwhile, all of the games you play with your dolls involve the bad guy capturing the princess. When I play with you, I try to capture the prince instead. Or, I pretend that the prince falls in love with the ugly witch because secretly she's beautiful on the inside. You are not amused by my tactics. You're like...leave your agenda at the door, and let me play, Mumma...
It's funny to eavesdrop on your play because you narrate the game through song. Sometimes your lyrics include lines from movies you've seen, sometimes they're things we've said, and sometimes they're completely random. It's one big mash up.
You're a sensitive child sometimes. A little girl recently told you that you couldn't play on a climbing tree at a park we were visiting. Lots of kids were on it, but every time you tried to approach, the little girl yelld at you.
I watched for a few minutes as you tried several times to approach the tree. You don't have a single mean bone in your body, and so you stood there, beeildered, crushed, and unsure of what to do.
I took your hand, walked you over to the tree, and helped you climb up on the branch anyway. I also shot the girl's father a few dirty looks as he sat there grinning at his daughter.
You were happy playing, but later you blinked back tears and asked why the girl was mean to you. I tried to tell you that she was just a little girl who didn't know how to share yet. I tried to explain that not everyone will want to be your friend, but that's okay. There are plenty of other kids out there who would love to play with you. Find those kids.
You look so grownup these days. You're long and lean with mosquito bites on your legs and freckles across your nose. People comment on how beautiful you are everywhere we go. This is true. You are very beautiful. But I hope you also know that you're smart, kind, funny, and brave. You are the sunshine after the rain.
I love you, sweet girl.
Love,
Mumma
She is so adorable. You must cherish her so much.
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