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Browsing Tag: daughters

Getting One Answer Right

  I was sitting on the steps that lead to the second floor of our house (it’s one of the places I go when I need to hide). I was doing something on my phone (incredibly life-affirming and positive, I’m sure, as all internet scrolling is) when Quinlan came bounding down the stairs. She stopped, sat down beside me, and wrapped her arms around me in one of her monkey hugs that drape and cling and demand that the hug-ee not leave such an embrace until Quinn is good and ready to disentangle herself.  When I could come up for air, she planted a kiss on my cheek. I smiled, remembering her as the baby who wouldn’t even sit beside me on the floor without a hand on my leg. “Do you know you’re one of my favorite people in the whole world?” I asked her. She was already on the first floor and headed to the kitchen. She shrugged. “I know,” she said, and continued on her way. I was left sitting on the steps, stunned by the nonchalance of her response. I know.  I…

I Really, Really Like Her

She’s leaned out, you know. My Saoirse–she got out of bed one morning and she was a rail. Just, a rail–tall and thin and lanky, all lines, no swells–all of a sudden a kid, a big kid, I mean, like the ones I see in the parks and at the mall and going into school. She’s one of them now. My Saoirse Kate. And I’m so excited for her. She bears the weight of the firstborn personality, my Saoirse. She’s sensitive, so sensitive, quick to cry, first to identify something as unfair. But she’s also the child who so very much wanted a guitar for Christmas, and when she noticed none under the tree that morning (her godmother was bringing one later), turned to me and quietly said, “I guess Santa didn’t think I needed a guitar,” and went back to the gifts in front of her. I hope this helps her become an empathetic adult. She has a sense of self that is strong. She knows what she likes, and she likes: pink, yellow and black. Airplanes, cars, and…

But She Should

Saoirse got her hair cut today. She goes with her dad to his hairdresser, and it’s always a cute little time for some daddy-daughter bonding. And Saoirse gets a lollipop after all is said and done, so you know, everybody wins. Except for today. I asked David to ask for SK’s hair to be cut to just above her shoulders, but not touching them. Saoirse always wants to wear her hair down–other than an occasional headband, she never wants me to touch it, and I figured that for the summer heat, a little shorter might be a lot easier for everybody involved. She didn’t seem too happy about it, but I told David to go ahead with the (slightly) shorter cut. And then he called me. He said it was short. He said it was really short. He was right. The hairdresser had taken the “not touching her shoulders” directive to heart, and now my darling 5-year-old daughter who loved her long hair and quietly did not fight me when I said she’d get a big trim is sporting a short bob that falls against…