August 18, 2006

One more for our team.

I'm sitting in a café, theoretically doing phonetics problem sets. The problem is, this place not only has free internet access, but a slew of insanely cute children.

One in particular, a two-year-old sitting on the couch across from me with her nanny, is dressed in baby cargo khakis with pink flowers, a pink shirt, and a pink bow as big as her head. Actually, I don't do the outfit justice - the small solemnly informed me that her shirt was "light pink" and the bow was "hot pink."

The nanny - in very sensible khaki shorts, sneakers, and blue hoodie - earlier confessed utter bewilderment. "I was never this girly," she said, shaking her head. "I don't know what this is all about. I'd never have let my mother put a bow on my head."

But the girl was definitely a different species altogether. When the nanny said, "How about I take this silly bow off your head?" the girl firmly shot back, "No! Pretty!" and guarded it with her hands.

"What's pretty?" the nanny prompted.

"I pretty! Bow pretty!" She paused a little, as if looking for a stronger argument. "Hot pink!"

The nanny sighed. "She's gonna grow up to be a little princess."

I looked over my laptop, over the rims of my own hot-pink chrome eyeglasses - "Grow up to be? I'm pretty sure she already is a little princess."

I can't hide a smile of recognition as I watch them and continue typing this post. Wait till she hits the stage where she refuses to wear pants - I confused the daylights out of my second-wave feminist mother when I was about that age. Wait till she uses her chemistry set to blend perfume - I spent about a year of my childhood smelling like an entire French whorehouse. Wait till she tries on the heels in mommy's closet and you discover she can walk in them better than mommy can - I got a lot of my best shoes out of the "torture rack" in my mom's closet.

Oh, welcome to the world, baby femme. They won't know what hit 'em.

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