Thankfully none of my girls are tomboys, not that I have anything against tomboys, I'm just not sure if I could relate to them. My girls are all girlie girls, meaning they like the finer things in life. I admit that I do really take great joy in watching them revel in their femininity. I also love it when they bring their friends over and the house is filled with those giggles that only little girls do. It is that giggle that makes a smile creep up onto my own face. The way little girls always have to be touching each other, their heads together deep in conversation (ok if I admit it, it's not just little girls, my friends and I are very much the same way when we get together).
In the days leading up to our spa day, the girls could not stop talking about their special day. The day before they were wound with excitement. What would they get done to their nails, what could they get done. Grace knew that she wanted a french manicure. She wanted a french manicure on both her ands and her tootsies.
Finally the much awaited day arrived. Sarah was this quiet but friendly girl who came prepared for a spa day. I wonder if she realized just what she was in for? The girls all shouted out their order fo their manicures. As usual the noise in my house was crazy (I feel like I should be sending out form letters apologizing to the neighbourhood for the amount of noise my children make). Most of the younger girls found their way into the kitchen to watch Sarah. I felt a little badly because poor Sarah must have felt like she was on display in a zoo (my home being the zoo). I felt badly, but not badly enough to make them stop. Selfishly with their attention distracted in the kitchen, making poor Sarah feel uncomfortable, I was able to chat freely with my friend without the kids constantly interjecting or diverting attention, o.k. perhaps I should not be accepting that Mother of The Year trophy, and perhaps I should not even consider my nomination for any humanitarian awards either.