Pink princess doll parties in dresses and skirts having adventures all over the world, captured in pink-centric art scattered to the winds in every direction.
Silvia is a girl’s girl. She spends her every moment (between sibling tiffs, artistic retreats and pouting fits) taking her dolls all over the house on fantastical journeys, singing them little nonsense songs with wardrobe changes at every destination. If I dare to interject a question about what they’re doing, she stares at me with a vaguely affronted look and says, “Mooooommy, I’m just plaaaaying”.
As in, leave me alone, woman, you’re interrupting my princess tower rebellion.
(On a side note, she just realized that Ken’s clothes come off. Princesses and a naked prince all a mix at the party. Ah, the innocence of youth.)
None of this is to imply that she is faint of heart or in anyway dainty. Dainty does not apply to Silvia. Cute, pretty, devilish and temperamental, yes. But not dainty. These adventures often have her princesses dangling off cliffs, jumping canyons and going off to college (all dangerous activities). She herself spends much of the day running laps around the house, up the stairs, down the stairs, across the couch, ad nauseum. Literally, her circling leaves me queasy.
Silvia cannot sit still. For the most part, unless enthralled by the magic of TV, she is constantly twitching, bouncing and twirling. This, hopefully, explains my somewhat guilty over-use of kid’s shows in the afternoon. If I don’t turn on Backyardigans, then she doesn’t turn OFF until she passes out in a lump somewhere in the house.
These impromptu naps are another one of Silvia’s trademarks. At four and a half years old, most kids have outgrown the afternoon nap, but not my blonde whirlwind. While she will vehemently refuse me if I ever dare to suggest it, Silvia puts herself down for a little rest more days than not every week. She will make a bed of pillows with a neatly straightened blanket, tuck herself underneath and sleep, oblivious to the world. Sometimes it comes on her stealthily and I will find her curled up on the hard tile of the front hall with her hands still outstretch towards a doll or asleep in the rocking chair of Jack’s nursery from one moment to the next when I turn away from her to change him.
In her last year of preschool now, Silvia is very excited for kindergarten next year, mostly so she can ride the bus with Anna. She’s more physically focused than Anna ever was and hasn’t started reading at all. That’s not to say she doesn’t know her letters and numbers, but it’s not in anyway the focus of her day. Still, she has her favorite stories half-memorized and will take the rare break during the day to sit and read two or three books cuddled up against me on the couch. She will be the athlete to Anna’s scholar.
An artist, a singer, a fighter, a lover, a darling and terror all at once, Silvia is my wonderland of childhood rolled up into one perfect little body.
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| On the move and feelin' fancy. |
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