The Boss is now 5 1/2 years old. I'm sorry if I've blogged in such a woefully inconsistent manner that this is a surprise to you. I find it pretty shocking myself.
Yesterday there was ROFLing in the aisles of TJ Maxx as my daughter regaled everyone in the store with her perspective on life, liberty and the pursuit of the clearance rack. Her voice was clear and confident beyond her years; her observations carried. Whether she was talking to me or to strangers, everyone within five racks got the gist. And appreciated it. I think most people left that store in better spirits than they arrived.
In the fitting room, where we both tried on an array of clothes that--based on previous experience--was bound to disappoint, a voice carried over the veneered partition from another stall: "Your daughter is very entertaining!" Every so often, a chortle from the attendant reinforced that fact as The Boss was holding sway over the entire fitting room from behind her red curtain.
The last dress in my pile was made of silvery lace. Thick straps secured it over my shoulders, at which point the dress just hung there. "It looks so...straight," I complained as I pivoted on socked feet to better view the different angles.
"That dress has no boobs," The Boss said.
"Yeah," I sighed. "That would be the problem."
The Boss, however, did not see this as an obstacle to overcome. Her eyes and cheeks were vivid. "You should wear that to my birthday party!" she declared. "It's very appropriate."
I raised my eyebrows--not at my 5 year old's use of the word "appropriate," since I'd long become accustomed to her vocabulary--but at the very idea. "Why is it 'appropriate' not to have boobs at your birthday party?"
"I don't have boobs." Her look was like, duh. "Nobody else will either. Well, except daddy. He has big boobs. Big, hairy ones." She drew out each word into an expansive descriptor and added hand gestures for my benefit.
Suddenly laughter was a chorus in the fitting room of TJ Maxx. In our mirrored microcosm, I could see fluorescent lighting intensify the flush of my cheeks; I saw the reflection of my budding comedian watching me for a reaction. Big, hairy ones. I was practically crying. The Boss nodded, satisfied.
For now she is still 5 1/2 years old, and I am the only audience she needs.