Not Your Sisters' Childhood

It is a miracle that our youngest daughter is the lovely, kind,, hardworking young wife, mother and HR professional she is today. No, she wasn't kidnapped by aliens.  But D3 did NOT have the same childhood as her older sisters. Not by a long shot.

In theory, D3 should have had the best childhood. D3's sisters were 12 and 14 when she was born. God knows her parents were experienced.  But also OLD.  Were OLD the day she was born.

Our wake up call came the first time we had dinner guests. Mr. Wonderful tiptoed into the adjacent room to check the sleeping cherub in the low basket, quietly lowering himself for a closer look. Then his knees went, "Pop! Pop!" and D3 woke up screaming. Um, that was new.

And we have been distracted all of D3's life. When you have two teen-aged daughters, you had better be paying attention to them. The toddler should be easy-peasy by comparison, right?

Fact is, if you turn your head, your toddler might fall and break a tooth. I did and she did.

Yet, it seemed inconsequential compared to D1's early arrival at home that same day, due to a locker bomb exploding at the high school.

And with the age gap, the older girls had to be doting, worshipful, siblings, right?

"The Sisters," as she called them, did, in fact, love D3 madly. They read to her, entertained her, and applauded her every success as if she was the first baby in history to pull up or make a sentence.

And shouldn't she learn a lot from The Sisters? She did! Oh, boy, did she!

They were responsible for the little voice in the carseat saying "Burn rubber, Dude!" For dressing her in "Asian Cabbage Patch" duds. (Signs of sisterly affection, right?) For fostering a love of books and Scooby Doo.

So I am not certain when I first noticed that, D3's view of the world was evolving into "teenage wannabe."

Maybe it was when the pediatric dentist (whom we saw for her broken tooth) asked if her stuffed rabbit, Foober, would like to join her in the chair. D3 gave the man an eye roll and replied "it's a stuffed animal."

Maybe it was when she began to fret about being unemployed. Non-stop. At age three.

But I didn't become alarmed until things got crazy at preschool.

Suddenly, D3 began diving under a table to hide as soon as we arrived.

Back home, she explained. "Bobby Vaccaro asks me to marry him every day!" After a little mother-daughter chat, I thought we were good.

Until the next time I picked her up at preschool.

Why were the teachers stifling giggles? I had to ask..

Yep. Bobby Vaccaro had again asked D3 to marry him. It was D3's answer that had everyone in stitches.

Did she say "No, no, go away!"?

Nope.

Maybe, "Boys are yucky!!"?

Not even close.

In response to that day's marriage proposal, D3 said, (quoting, now):

"I'm sorry. I'm not ready for a commitment."

Yep. The. Sisters. Gave. Marital. Advice.

To. D3.

At. Age. Three.

Not kidnapped by aliens.

Programmed by The Sisters.