When she was a preschooler, the top ten tunes boomed in the car and she was bopping along in the back.
When she figured out the words, they flowed off her tongue, adult lyrics that weren’t intended for baby ears. But she had the rhythm and she definitely had the moves.
She is always the eager enthusiast.
As a baby, she sat for hours on her daddy’s lap as he studied political analysis sites pre-American presidential elections.
He thought she was interested in a political career. She was just happy as a lark with daddy. This little birdy just wanted attention, no political worms required, just attention.
She is the charmer.
She’d rather not sit down to do anything. She likes to read, but don’t tell her when.
She is a smartie pants.
She likes chess, Stratego, and logic games, but suggests we do it for studies and she doesn’t want to have anything to do with it.
She does creative her way.
Ask her to paint a picture, she’ll make abstract lines and geometrical shapes, with happy colours, but no cliche rainbows for her.
She is unique.
When I asked her to coordinate her outfit: it is an orange shirt and fuchsia skirt, she cocks her head: do you mean make them the same colour? That’s unfashionable! Who knew I was doing it wrong all these years.