MyThreeDaughters

Elizabeth has been a little bummed out of late.
Comes home from school, you know, just not having had a good day.
Somewhere along the way, Wife got good advice from another mom about what to ask your kid about the day: Who did you sit with at lunch? Who did you play with on the playground?
So an answer to the latter question yields this (changing the names, of course): I played with Emma, and she’s too bossy.
The next morning before school, I hear Wife telling Elizabeth, “why don’t you make it a goal to find new friends and play with someone different on the playground today?”
We were so delighted at the end of the day when we asked Elizabeth how things had gone.
“I made a new friend!” she said proudly. “And we played on the playground.”
Oh, how did that happen?
“Sarah and I played together, because Sarah usually plays with Taylor and she’s sick of Taylor. And Emma and I are sick of each other. So we switched friends. Taylor and Emma played together, and Sarah and I played together.”
Well, great, I mean, OK, that’s not exactly like….it’s sort of like when…right, well, good Elizabeth, at least you are happier.
So, like, you and Sarah didn’t launch surface-to-air missiles at Emma and Taylor?
Right? You didn’t do that, did you?

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We’ve always tried to instill in the girls that they can do anything they want when they grow up.
No restrictions.
No glass ceilings.
They don’t have to do chick jobs; they can do dude jobs, too.
Fontaine wanted to play baseball this year, not softball, so she is playing baseball on an otherwise all-boy Little League team.
And so it was, last night, when I was reading an “Olivia” book to Rosebud, and at the end of the book, Olivia pictured herself in the middle of a group shot of the U.S. Supreme Court.
What is that? Rosebud asked.
Oh, that’s the Supreme Court; they are all very skilled attorneys who decide the most important legal issues in the country.
Can anyone be on the Supreme Court? she asked.
Sure! This is AMERICA.
No burkas here.
The Supreme Court is open to any race, any ethnicity, any political belief.
We live in a meritocracy, where achievement rather than connections (hahaha, OK, so I was spinning it a little too much, but…) is what matters.
You could be the first female, curly-haired, fiery redhead on the Supreme Court. And look at those robes! You could hide a week’s worth of Trader Joe’s cereal bars in there and no one would know.
How do you get on the Supreme Court.
Well, the President has to choose you, but he can choose ANYone.
She looks.
“But I’m just a kid.”
OK, OK, so you may have to wait a while, but…but, but, but, well look, Olivia’s a pig.

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