Wont you take me to Diva-town
My 3 year old had a reward last weekend. After a few false starts, now she is a big girl (undies all the way), so she got to choose a treat to celebrate. From her daddy she asked for a RC Heli – no surprise there.
I was all geared up for the “I want to ride a pony” request, only to be instead served up: “I would like to get my haircut and nails done with you mummy”. OMG – when did Bethie Boo go from 3 to 13? Wow, but also cool, so I made the appointments at my hairdresser and we counted down to the big day.
Of course, I expected to be in full control of the happenings, there to calm her if she got a bit scared, ready to soothe her if she became overwhelmed by the processes enveloping her. Cape on, Supermummy to the rescue (I leave the tights at home these days, thermals are more my geriatric style)! Except that isn’t what happened. MS Bethie Boo channeled her inner diva and was in full command of the situation! We’d been split apart as they were overbooked and short on space, so I tried to remain in earshot to help by barking out the orders as needed. First up – I was getting my hair washed prior to cutting, as the DIVA (yes, it was an all capital performance, eat your heart out Mariah Carey) was being led to a chair. Except that she refused to go. Shaking her head she pointed to the basin. “Wash please” she commanded regally. The hairdresser looked at me and I laughed – “its her day, so whatever she wants”.
Next was to cut and fluff. She was just having a trim so that went without a hitch. Then I heard the hairdresser asking if she wanted a blow-dry or braid. I was about to yell out blow dry when a very confident young voice indicated braids please. Wow again. Next up – ribbons or clips. “No clips” was determined before I even thought of an answer. Then she was whisked to the nail booth and out of my sight. She chose colours and finishes without hesitation, instructed for more glitter (you can never have enough glitter after all!). She was LOVING the independence. I felt a bit of the cord unravel with a twang across my heart. My baby was growing up. But it wasn’t bad, I felt an even stronger flush of pride and happiness in the way she was making choices in her own life, in the way she was reveling in the process of decision making without over-protective mummy getting in the way. I made a mental note – let her have more of the little freedoms in every day things, if she chooses badly, it doesn’t matter, hair can grow back, clothes can be replaced, and she will learn to embrace trial and error as a way to solving problems.
It seems so simple here, but was quite a revelation to me. All the decisions I make daily for her without a second thought I need to reconsider. Some should be delegated to her, and others should be a joint decision. I never thought I would be relinquishing control so early, but I am happy to do so – quite excited in fact to watch what decisions she will make and what their outcomes will be. A little rose emerging from the bud……. Hmmmm…. Or perhaps a monster truck roaring off the assembly line……..
Wild ride – here we come!