You’d think when your two youngest children are 12- and 8-years old, you could sleep in on a lazy summer morning. You’d think those two maturing little people could entertain themselves, and/or each other with a bit of harmless, quiet fun. —
You’d think so. But you’d be wrong.
As I lay sleeping, my children (two of them, at least, the oldest one is off exploring the wilds of Western Canada with his grandparents) poured dangerous levels of olive oil in a shallow bowl and sat in the living room giving each other facials and back massages.
Clearly, my 12-year old daughter is the ringleader on this one. Days before she had purchased The Girls’ Book of Glamour: A Guide to Being a Goddess from Barnes & Noble. Our apartment quickly morphed into her home spa. To be fair, the near-constant scent of lavender in the air is a welcome change from the eye-stinging oder emitted from my older son’s soccer cleats.
It’s not easy living with a goddess. She’s hired her little brother (at the motivating rate of $2.50 per day) to join in her quest. Together they’ve poured through the pantry for home-spa items even messier (if possible) than the olive oil. She’s rearranged her tiny bedroom to showcase the hundreds of teen magazine tear sheets she’s taped to her walls. And she’s ordered countless beauty items from elf Makeup and Cosmetics so she can mimic Kim Kardashian’s smoky eyes. Thankfully, she has yet to leave the house wearing her “Life’s Aflutter” false eyelashes.
What can you do? It’s kind of sweet. I remember the goddess phase of my own life, many, many moons ago. I think it’s what comes when a young girl is pealing off her little girl self. Testing the world. Reaching up and out.
I think I’ll let her be. Maybe I won’t sleep in for the rest of the summer. Maybe I’ll hide the olive oil. Maybe I’ll watch her shine.
