Until a few days later.
We were driving
First, as a woman whos lived through 43 Christmases, it *fascinated* me she had no clue what the date of the holiday was.
She knew it was coming. She knew it annoyed her. She had no idea whether it was tomorrow or weeks away.
Next I had more of an OOOOH moment.
A needed reminder that, for me, becoming unapologetically myself and embracing being different was a process.
That no matter how she might march to the beat of her own skull-emblazoned drum—she’s eight.
barbies & mohawks
And sometimes eight simply wants to be the same as everyone else.
She explained to me a few reasons she “hated” Christmas more this year than others and when she finished I said to her:
Without missing a beat, she sighed & quoted a line from our favorite musical :
yes it does.
even if sometimes, at eight, it doesnt feel that way so much.