And to THAT end, I thought I might write a little about my Pixie Princess. My bold, brassy, independent-thinking monkey-girl. (Sorry, Fianna; when you see a good idea, steal it and RUUUUUN!) Tonight was her very first public art show. Yes, it was a school function, but the artwork is not being displayed at the school; it's being displayed in the local library. There was even live harp music and food! She says it wasn't the piece SHE would have chosen to mount and display, but she was a featured artist nonetheless.
She's also been cast as an Oompa Loompa in her very first community theater production of Willy Wonka. She was very gracious in accepting this role, as she had of course initially auditioned for the parts of Veruca Salt and Violet Beauregard. But considering that this was her first audition and she was woefully unprepared (her mother found out about it only the day before, and with no detail), the fact that she got a part speaks well of her.
Anyway... You know that curse that every mother throws at her children in fits of frustrated rage? "I hope you have children JUST! LIKE! YOU!" Well, my mother chose to make it more of a blessing. Consciously. She was very specific about her blessing, too. "I hope that when you have children, they have all of your best qualities and none of your flaws." What a lovely thing to say! However. I think she and I sometimes diverge where "best qualities" and "flaws" are defined.
My mother is a born-again Christian. This works well for her, and I am glad that her faith does her well. She values obedience and honesty and hard work and compassion and loyalty and conservative behavior and dress.
I am a pagan. I agree with my mother where honesty and hard work and compassion and loyalty are concerned. I also value independent thought, which often prevents immediate and unquestioning obedience. This is admittedly sometimes a pain in the proverbial tookus, but overall I think I would rather my daughter obey me because she sees the sense in what I am instructing her to do, than "just because I said so." And we often argue over the sense of the requests and demands I make of her. And being a child, she doesn't always see the reasons behind everything, but eventually... She will.
My Princess is bull-headed, like her parents (all three of us). She makes choices based on the information at hand and goes at them full-throttle. She's intelligent and compassionate and charming, which is most often used for good, but occasionally turns toward the egocentric.
My Princess is talented. She sings like a little angel; she loves to dance; she wants to be in theater; she loves to draw and paint and create. This, of course, leads me into realms of parental bliss. No, I don't always love her choices in music, but I don't suppose my parents loved listening to Nine Inch Nails or Garbage, either. The long and short of it is: I. Hate. Sports. I will watch them as a good, supportive mother should, if I have to. But I am EVER so thankful that I don't have to. Take me to art shows, theater productions, dance recitals, concerts; I will watch and look and clap and whistle and throw roses with all the enthusiasm in my heart.
My Princess is articulate. As parents, her father and stepfather and I have made it a point never to talk down to any child. If we use a five-dollar word, we want our Princess to ask what it means. To learn, always. To speak at a level that matches her intelligence. And she has risen to the challenge magnificently.
My Princess is a culinary adventurist. Most ten-year-olds stick to a chicken-nugget, hot dog, hamburger, macaroni-and-cheese diet. You know, "kid foods." My Princess likes sushi and broccoli (most veggies, really) and steaks and soups and pretty much everything other kids refuse to eat. When we go out for subs, she gets more veggies on hers than the hubs or I do.
My Princess is a million things that make me proud, a thousand things that make me happy and a handful of things that drive me nuts, but in truth, it's probably a good thing she keeps me on my toes anyway.
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