Thirteen years ago, I held a small baby and said to my mom, “But I don’t feel like a mother.”
Mom replied, “She’ll turn you into one.”
Bookgirl is a teenager today! In honor of her childhood years, we give you a compilation of pictures and quotes, mostly taken from old blog posts. Nothing about Bookgirl has ever been conventional.
2004 (age 3):
She didn’t start talking until age two and a half. Now that she finally does, she seldom makes complete sense. For instance, there’s a Bob the Builder episode about “crazy paving.” The words caught her fancy, and became employed as all-purpose adjectives:
Us: “Who is this boy in this picture with the coat of many colors?”
Bookgirl: “It’s a crazy crazy pavin’ little boy with a coat is named Joseph.”
Us: “Where’s your brother’s pink bear?”
Bookgirl: “Where’s crazy pavin’ pink bear? I donno.”
2005 (age 4):
(Completely unconnected to the conversation currently in progress): “Could you and Daddy live together if your hair was different?”
Bookgirl approached me looking solemn and tragic. “Mama, I just realized! I’m growing too old for toys and books! I have to learn to work!”
2007 (age 6):
To a Ruby Tuesday’s hostess: “Excuse me, Miss, but I have enough strength to wrench that bar off your door.”
Bookgirl is sick again. She’s lying on the couch having the stomach-bug equivalent of a celebratory party.
“Ooohh!” (Moaning with her eyes closed, but checking our reaction through a tiny slit of eye.) “I’m really, really sick. I need to go to the hospital!”
“You don’t have a fever, honey. You’re not sick enough to go the hospital.”
“I AM sick enough! I won’t last the night! Tomorrow you won’t have me with you anymore!”
“Would you like some water? And I’ll pray for you.”
“I won’t last the the night, I tell you!”
Daddy prays for her, during which she moans pathetically. Then he announces it’s storytime (the usual bedtime routine). She moans louder.
“I won’t last through storytime!”
At DJ’s request, I’m going to Google the symptoms of appendicitis. But we think that involves a fever and pain, not an upset stomach and a dramatic six-year-old.
2008 (age 7):
Clerk in a store saying goodbye as we left: “Goodbye! Have a good vacation!”
Bookgirl: “Bye! Have a good life! Because you never know when you’ll die!”
2011 (age 10):
We were being silly, and DJ indicated that Bookgirl and Gamerboy were nitwits. Bookgirl leaped to her feet, assumed fighting stance, and warned, “One of these ‘nitwits’ packs a pretty powerful punch.”
DJ replied, “One of them is pretty, and packs a powerful punch.”
Bookgirl dropped her fists. “Now, that’s just disarming!” she said, flopping on the couch.
2012 (age 11):
(During a dispute about how long someone had gotten to jump on the trampoline)
Me: “If you didn’t use the timer, then I have no way of judging who got the longer turn.”
Bookgirl, waving the timer at me: “You put your trust in INVENTIONS more than your OWN DAUGHTER’S EVIDENCE?”
(After attempting to get DJ to wiggle her loose molar; he declined and turned his video back on)
“Parents today are too busy paying attention to the TV to pay any attention to their oldest daughter’s second loose molars!”
(Frustrated at a website that’s down for maintenance)
“If they don’t fix this problem, I’m going to girl-cott all their products!”
Thirteen years. It’s been an adventure sharing her heart and her mind all these years.
Happy birthday to our articulate, principled, interesting, crazy-pavin’ young woman!