Out of nowhere she has opinions about what she should wear. And mostly what she demands to wear is a purple dress.
“Time to get ready for the day,” I say.
It is not always available. Sometimes, after some fuss, she’ll settle for polka dots.
This morning, I picked out red pants, and she said, “Nope.”
“Alice, I’m sorry. It’s really late. It has to be red pants.”
“No red pants.”
Back and forth.
I told her we needed to hurry.
She looked at me and said, “Ooh. Beautiful dress, Mommy.”
(When she says it it sounds like, “Ooh. Fuel-full dess, Mommy.” And when she says it, it sounds like a blessing. My daughter thinks I am beautiful.)
“Thank you, Alice. I love you, Alice.”
She picked up the pants. “Beautiful pants too?”
“Oh. The most beautiful.”
(Once I was putting on makeup, and Alice held her hand out for the brush. I gave it to her. She dusted her nose and said, “Nice?”
Oh, no, I thought. Re-program!
“You look very nice. You always look very nice. All the time. Without makeup you look nice.”
And also you’re so smart.
I’ll be honest with you, I haven’t decided what I think about all that.
I know think she is beautiful. I think she is smart. I think she is kind and funny. And I tell her and tell her and tell her and tell her.)