1 Mother 2 Another

Yesterday Maddie and I headed out on a
long-anticipated Mommy and Me morning, partaking of that great
mother-daughter ritual: shoe-shopping. Maddie had some money saved
up and I’d promised her a morning with just Mommy so she
could pick out whatever crazy and impractical shoes her heart
desired. (There’s more to that story, but it’s not the
focus of this entry, so check back later -)


We slept in and had a lazy morning, and I finally got myself around
to getting dressed. Maddie trailed behind, watching me get ready. I
selected a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, and Maddie said,
“Mommy, I want to wear exactly what you wear today.”
Startled, I mentally ran through her wardrobe and reassured myself
that she had a black t-shirt, then said, “Sure, pup, no
problem.”

Maddie wriggled excitedly into her jeans
and black t-shirt, then headed to the bathroom to get her hair done
“exactly like Mommy”. I pulled her hair back the way
mine was, and she smiled in satisfaction at her reflection in the
mirror. A few minutes later, both of us in sneakers and jeans
jackets, we headed out the door for our shopping trip.


The Mommy mirror continued for the rest of the day; Maddie
announced that she wanted to “eat when you eat, Mommy, and go
potty when you do”. When we stopped for lunch, we shared a
salad and drank our waters, and I’d often catch sight of her
looking happily at herself in a passing window. Of course, as the
day went on I became more and more smug about the awesomeness that
is Me – why else would my daughter want to emulate me so?


As we lay snuggling in bed last night, Maddie announced that she
wanted to make sure we dressed alike again today. “Why do you
want to look just like me, honey?” I asked casually, readying
myself happily for the fawning and adoration that was sure to come.
“Because it makes me feel more like a grown-up,” was
her reply.


“Why do you want to feel like a grown-up?” I asked,
belatedly sensing this was going somewhere else.


“Because grown-ups get to do whatever they want,” she
replied matter-of-factly.


This, of course, initiated the whole “oh, it’s not so
great being a grown-up, and we’ve got rules too”
conversation. And then, of course, crawling away and licking the
wounds from the ass-kicking my ego had gotten at not being thought
super-cool, but simply being a means to an end.


We’ll dress alike today, I’m sure, as requested. And
when I pass a mirror and she’s standing next to me,
I’ll pretend that it’s for different reasons, and think
how cool we look together. No one else has to know the real reason,
right?