When I was a little girl, I loved to play house with my dolls all day long, and I’d pretend that I was their loving mother.
(Not actually me)
My daydreams were filled with thoughts of making every one of their holidays special with beautiful decorations and wonderful desserts.
In my imagination, I’d make sure that all of their Christmas gifts would be exquistely wrapped with gorgeous bows, silver bells, and notes from Santa.
They’d have balloons on their birthdays and freshly baked cookies and hot chocolate when they came inside from playing in the snow.
I’d take them to the toy store and ride tricycles with them down the aisles and shoot them with water guns in the backyard.
I’d be the very best shopping partner that my daughters would ever have, and we’d chat around the table and watch chick flicks in bed.
I’d give them big smiles and warm hugs, so they’d always know that they were loved.
I was pretending that one day, I’d be just like my mother, the very best role model a young girl, and now a grown woman, could have ever imagined.