Little Girls

"Some day I'll land in the nut house
With all the nuts and the squirrels
There I'll stay
Until the prohibition of
Little girls."

-Annie, the musical

 

I love my duo of girlies.  I love that they are creative and imaginative.  I'm just drowning in little girl accessories and cast-offs right now and a little overwhelmed and this song has been cycling through my head most of the morning.  Can you hear Carol Burnett cackling as Miss Hannigan?  I can. 

 

Because I feel like I don't have enough time to spend with them during the week and then our weekend time is often used up with errands, grocery shopping and house cleaning,  I easily get suckered into "projicks".  "But this one isn't messy!" they cry.  "We'll pick it up!" they protest. 

 

And just like the infomercial for losing half your body weight without diet or pesky exercise, I fall for it. 

 

Currently, (and let me say that this "projick" started somewhere in the 6:00 a.m. time frame),  Miss 5 has cut two dozen construction paper hearts out of the very center of each piece of paper, abandoning the scraps in her wake.  She has pulled down markers to write her messages "Hape Holuda"  (Happy Holidays) and left them scattered across the table sans caps.  Two paper plates have been taken from the pantry and ragged eyeholes cut into them.  Mid-"projick" the string to hold it onto ones head was deemed too short, so both masks and the related props have been relocated to the living room floor on the way to a more desirable venture.

 

Tape.  Let's pause for a moment to reflect on the magnificence of tape.  Miss 5 has found the tape and has made a remarkable bandage for one of her dolls.  She has also taped each and every one of her Barbie dolls eyes and has moved onto the button-eyed scare-master, Lalaloopsy. 

 

"I'm giving them contacts." she tells me.  Well, of course. 

 

She is clearly running an understaffed office as she is currently the doctor, receptionist, and patient's mother.  The split personality conversation in the other room is about the only thing that is keeping me from crying.   My favorite so far is "Where is your shirt?!  You went to the doctor without a shirt?  What were you thinking?...(quick aside)  "The rest of you will have to wait your turn.  I don't have any more shirts."  I don't know what's going on in this office, but I think I may cancel my appointment.

 

Everywhere you go in our play space, you'll find a Barbie shoe.  Vampy, trampy, plastic detritus.  They look cute in the box, they're even remotely cute on her feet.  (The one and only one time they were ON her feet.)  But mostly, they are just underfoot.  Irritatingly pokish, but low on the Lego scale of pain induction.  Our vacuum has hoovered up a few.  Several are somewhere in the dogs digestive system.  And yet, everywhere I go, there they are.

 

It seems that everything a little girl might desire comes with many, many little accessories.  As do the little girls themselves.  Miss 5 has just donned her third party dress in an hour and I'm sure the rejects are lying in a heap on her floor.  Little One aspires to be as well dressed and has come downstairs in an outfit of her own making.  (Read undies, tank top, wool hat and snow boots.)  The volume of laundry in our house is stunning already.  The addition of "I needed a new ow-fit" to our repertoire is not helping.  And let's be honest, sometimes it really is easier to potentially needlessly rewash it than it is to run through the three-point cleanliness check for each item.  Socks and undies are an automatic re-wash.  Some things I just don't want to inspect too closely.

 

It was way easier when they couldn't open gates, reach the top shelf, move a chair to create a ladder, etc.  This independence that I longed for is turning on me.