Yesterday Claire told me she wanted to be an astronaut when she grows up. Filled with pride at my obviously exceptional daughter's dreams of becoming a female flight commander, I asked her why she wanted to be an astronaut. Her reply? "Because you get to wear astronaut gloves." I paused. "Any other reason?" She thought for a minute then said, "And the hats. I like the astronaut hats."
What can you say to that? It really is all about the accessories.
Sunday night Claire was playing outside with her friends Ian and Caleb (she only has boy friends). All of a sudden she comes running inside, all pouty and indignant. "Those mean boys are being mean to me!" she said. I asked what happened and she said "They killed me!" I asked her if she knew what that meant and she answered "No, but I don't like it."
Not wanting to have to explain what being "killed" meant to Claire, I walked her outside and told the boys "No more killing. You need to pretend something else." Then, being the clever and imaginative mom that I am, I suggested that they play Diego and try to help some animals in danger.
I swear, if I didn't know the ages of these kids, I would have thought they were 13. They exchanged annoyed glances and I think I even saw some eye rolling. Claire paused then said "Come on, let's play cowboys instead. You don't have be killed for that."