Sunday, January 31, 2010

Fancy Fia

Sofia has two older brothers so I assumed from the moment I learned her gender that she would be a tomboy.  Knowing that I had some very superficial dreams about my future daughter, I prepared myself for a little girl who loathed ballet, pink dresses, and canopy beds.  I opened myself to softball, sneakers, and dirt.

I’m kind of embarrassed that my pregnant dreams included such silly and girlie things.  In my defense, I also imagined sharp wit, thoughtful intelligence, ambition, creativity, kindness, and so much more.  She was going to embody everything I’ve ever admired in others.

As it turns out, I have a daughter who is everything I never imagined and everything I ever could have wanted.  She is kooky, funny, sassy, clumsy, clever, and sweet. 

She’s a careful observer who mimics everything she sees.  When she was just over a year old, she got a toy stove top and oven for Christmas.  Not more than a month later I found her standing in front of it, pretending to stir something in a toy pot.  She had her head cocked to the side with her ear glued to her shoulder.  Her stance looked oddly familiar.  I got closer and heard her babbling her own brand of age-appropriate jibber-jabber like she was talking on the phone while cooking.

She doesn’t just notice that Mommy likes to multi-task while cooking. She also notices my footwear.  She loves the sound my high heels make on the hardwood floors.  She has a pair of dress up shoes that she has been obsessed with since she was two.  They light up (always a bonus in Sofia land) and they make the same “clickety-clack shound” that my “fancy shoes” do.  Just a few weeks ago I had to hide Sofia's beloved “clickety-clack shoes" from her.  I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away, but I had to keep her from cramming her way too big feet into them!  Her toes curl in the toe box and her fleshy foot spills out over the top of the shoe like one of Cinderella's stepsisters in the dainty glass slipper.  I find it frightening that at 3 years old she’s already willing to put her feet through torture to wear a great pair of shoes.  There must be a shoe gene.


She’s also a little actress.  She loves to dress in the most outrageous outfits – the more accessories the better.  She makes between two and five (or more) “costume” changes a day.  If there’s ever a moment when I wonder where she went, I know she’s in her bedroom, standing on the bathroom step stool, arms stretched above her head, rummaging through her things for something new to wear – maybe searching out some hot pink leg warmers to go with her purple Hello Kitty socks, red dress, green leggings, and light-up tiara.  The days of carefully coordinated outfits, hand-selected by me are over.  Sofia already has a personal style – it’s called Punky Brewster meets Fancy Nancy.  I am never surprised to find her standing in front of the mirror making silly facial expressions at herself.  I once found her alone in my room fake-crying in the full-length mirror.  She was practicing, intensely studying her face while she sobbed and boo-hooed in different tones.  She doesn’t know I saw her and I’m glad I did because now I’m on to the little drama queen!

Sofia hasn't fallen in love with ballet (yet) or softball for that matter.  She is simply pure entertainment for all of us always.

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