xanthe

Xanthe woke up early Sunday morning.  I awoke to her intense little eyes staring me down, willing me to get up.  I could have told her to watch TV until the rest of the household started stirring, but I sensed she needed some Xanthe time.  She changed Tziporah's diaper and held her while we chatted about her birth story.  For the first time, she seemed to have questions.  Xanthe asked if she was cute as a baby.  Of course she was, and still is!  Then she said,  "I know why babies are so cute.  Because Jesus made them cute because he wanted them to be cute when they grew up.  But grown-ups aren't really that cute.  You have grey hair, mom."

Right about that time, I was wondering why I didn't have Xanthe watch a show instead of inviting her into my cozy bedroom to analyze my aging process.  I may not be "cute," but Xanthe went on to tell me that when she's forty, she wants to be "a ballet teacher and a mom because I love ballet and I love being a mom."  And she said, "And I'll have grey hair like you and I'll dye it all the time just like you!"

Kids are so brutally honest.  Aging is inevitable, but if you can do it in a way that makes a seven-year-old want to emulate you, I think you're doing OK.  So snaps to me!  Hey, I need all the snaps I can get after Xanthe's critique.  Xanthe, I hope you grow up to have just as much fun as a ballet teacher and a mom as I do.  And when you dye your hair, stay away from a color called "Paint the Town."