"boys sweat and girls sparkle"
declares Ava, not yet 4 years wise.
This, her new proclamation stage.
Finding her identity in all things feminine, reveling in the exclusivity of her "kind".
I sit a floor below their chatter, warming my hands around my coffee mug,
a smile creeping wide when Ava's other catch phrase
"girls rule and boys drool."
and pealing laughter float down the stairs
as her daddy, feigned indignant,
scoops her up in his arms so she will stink just like him.
I whisper to myself in the rising sun,
"cover her good husband. Let your smell linger, seeping into her deep.
Let this daughter of ours know how it is to smell completely of her father's love."
It's later now, my own father coming to pick Owen up
for his first college hockey game experience.
After drying wet mittens, finding hats, and wiping basketball mud prints from his coat,
I kiss his cheek as he happily dashes out the door.
Both sets of leaving boy eyes twinkling with excitement.
The boys out of the way, my mama and I turn to Ava
asking how she would like to spend the time just us girls?
"Makeovers!" She cries