Pigtails and pink toes

It has happened. The thing I dreaded most. I have raised a girlie girl. I CAN FEEL YOUR LAUGHTER THROUGH THE COMPUTER SCREEN! Stop it! Stop it right now!

Now that you have composed yourself, I will proceed. Here is some evidence to support my claim:

KIC: "Mommy, what's that?"
Me: "It's a chocolate chip waffle" (don't judge)
KIC without even tasting it: "I LOVE it!"

Another example:
KIC, out of the blue: "Mommy, I like your shiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrt."

(and, yes, parents of teenage daughters, I do recognize that inflection will mean pure, unadulterated sarcasm in the future.)

She loves stroking Barbie's hair, she refers to her daddy as "My Love" and routinely says "Awwwwwww, that's so cuuuuuuuuuuuuuute" in a dead on impression of a valley girl. She hates bugs, worms in particular, being dirty (okay, she definitely gets that from me) and loves the Disney princesses.

While we don't do her hair, we are blessed with others who love to do her hair. Her daddy is happy to paint her toes and her momma is happy to keep her in dresses, cute shoes (my main weakness) and adorable, pink clothing. While one of us may have been dreading the frippery that comes with girlie girlness, we've embraced it to the best of our ability. I like to think we've given KIC the ability to establish her own personality DESPITE HER MOTHER'S INITIAL INTENTIONS.

And who knows, maybe there's hope. Right after watching the "Cars 2" movie, she requested a Mater tow truck toy. As we speak, it's not a Barbie sitting in her cubby at school, it's Mater. Maybe she'll be a race car driver after all. Whatever the outcome, we sure do love her so.