Being JavaMom has its perks, but many days I wonder what it’s like to be JavaGirl. She’s 3.5 in all that means — a sort of mini version of teenagerhood full of strum and drang. Life with JavaGirl at the moment is like riding a rollercoaster in the dark, you never know whether you are on your way up or down, turning left or right, or just how steep the climb or deep the plunge will be.
Some nights she doesn’t want to sleep in her own bed, which is funny since she was the baby/toddler who expressed no interest in cuddling with us in our bed. One night I was trying to convince her to come into her own room and her bed and said, “JavaGirl, look, it’s your princess bed, just for a princess like you!” To which she replied, “No, I’m not a princess anymore.” “Oh, you’re not? What are you?” “I’m a ballerina!” “Okay, then it is a ballerina bed for you.” “Oh, great!” And she hopped right into bed! (Note to self: ask JavaGirl what she is that day BEFORE trying to coax her into bed.)
One afternoon I was snuggling her and I squeezed her tight and said, “ooooh, your my little girl!” To which she replied, “Mommy! Not everything is YOURS!”
It’s these little moments that make those insane 3.5 year old moments worth it. You know, those crazy-making moments: “I want a banana.” “I’m sorry honey, we are all out of bananas, Mommy will have to go get more at the store.” “But I WANT a banana!” “I’m sorry, we don’t have any bananas.” “But I want a BANANA NOW!” (Cue screaming fit.)
She tells me her belly button is made of peanut butter. (Which, as much peanut butter as this child love, may not be far from the truth.) She carefully contemplates the number of toes on her rubber iguana and talks to me in great detail about it. I have decided not to tell her about the situation about iguanas freezing in Miami or she would ask me about those endlessly, much like the headless turkey situation. She considers tights some sort of mideval torture device and does not understand why I think these are something practical for a girl to wear when it is freezing outside.
And though she asks me repeatedly, “Where are we going? Why do I have to put socks on?” literally dozens of times the fifteen minutes I give her to get ready before we go, her absolute favorite moment of the day is when we go pick her brother up from school, when she almost knocks him over by running up to him and giving him a hug.
