When my daughter was younger she was a firey little thing. We used to laugh our heads off at her as she stomped and scoweled her way through the day. She knew what she wanted and was not afraid to tell you. She was playing on the playground one day (age 4 or 5) with my husband, and she organized a group of the kids to play some imaginary game with her involving characters from a movie and a very complicated plot line that no doubt involved her playing the princess role and being in charge of everyone's corresponding actions. This particular group happened to be comprised of boys, and the little one-act soon degenerated into a dirt clod throwing war. Having none of this, my daughter stomped up to my husband and announced, hands on hips "Dad! These boys are not playing my game!" To which he replied, "Well, honey, maybe they don't like that game. Maybe you need to find another game to play." Whirling on her toe and literally tossing her curls, she retorted "HMMMPF! I just need to find some boys who will do what I tell them!" My husband chuckled, "You will honey, I'm sure you will."
Lying on a chaise at the pool yesterday, I looked up in time to see my daughter approaching. Hard to miss with her still fiery hair, she was walking up the path and into the clubhouse with a line of five boys in tow.
Gangly, awkward teenage boys, most in need of haircuts, but still a polite and mild mannered enough bunch that I don't feel the need to worry. The irony is, I think she has figured out that throwing dirt clods is actually a lot of fun and she seems perfectly happy to organize games that they all want to play for the most part, though they don't seem to mind her occasional re-direction either. I had to smile when she hung up the phone the other day and announced "Good grief! Do I have to organize everything for everyone?" I couldn't see her around the corner but I just knew she had her hands on her hips and was rolling her eyes.