High School, babies, and monkey bars...

Back to High School...Musical, that is.

My daredevil son...

While there are blessing too numerable to count about having sons (and I am realizing boys are very easy on the heart and mind, too), having a daughter allows me moments where I am transported in a time machine back to my very childhood. I was a girly girl, and I am secretly pleased that my daughter is, too. Sure, I'd have been supportive if she wanted to spend her days playing baseball instead of dressing baby dolls. And I certainly know girls can do both and do them well. However, I seem to have a little girl who just naturally gravitates to dresses, babies, all things pink, and prefers to dance than carry a hockey stick (and I won't even pretend to mind that - I had my fill of hockey rinks with my eldest son!).

As my daughter grows, I am keenly aware that she could reject all of her favourites (and mine) at any time. She could instead fill her closet with jeans and t-shirts, decide dolls are beneath her, and trade pink for black. While I steel myself for the possibility, I dread it all the same. I find myself smiling wistfully as she carries a doll on her hip, or asks me to hold it while she gets it a diaper. One of her favourite Christmas gifts was a real baby stroller, which Santa so graciously left for her and her best friend, in identical polka-dot patterns. As she and her friend marched their babies down the street the other evening, I had a sudden urge to run for the camera...somehow fearing it might be my last moment to capture such sweetness.

One never knows when the winds of change will blow in...

Two weekends ago, I took my girlie to see High School Musical, live at Neptune Theatre (Halifax., N.S.), where we both clapped delightedly and bopped in our seats to the fantastic music and dance numbers. After the show, I had to literally push my squirming daughter to the front of the pack to be photographed with the actors (don't they look like the originals?). The look on her face reads embarrassment, but she fairly bolted out of the car to show the photos to her brothers.

Sometimes a mother just knows best...

visiting the Freaky Lunchbox after the show...

This final photo represents my girly-girl meets Bionic Woman best. She may be dressed all pretty-like, but beneath those sleeves lie some very developed biceps, capable of carrying her little body across those bars with aplomb. That's what happens when you are the sister of boys.

Ruffles and muscles meet!!