My littlest may only be two and a half, but she has no doubt about her place in the world. She is the center of our family, adored by her big siblings, our undisputed princess, and she recently set our pediatrician straight when she dared to question Sophie’s world order.
Sophie smiled, inching a little higher on my lap, deeper into mom safety zone. I knew where this conversation was going, and Sophie’s squirming seemed to indicate that she did too.
“Well,” continued the doctor, “when you’re ready, you and your mommy can give the bottle fairy a call on the telephone. Then she will come over to your house and take your bottles.”
Sophie’s smile vanished and her pudgy little hand grabbed the bottom of my shirt. Then she threw out her favorite weapon to handle this unexpected attack on her beloved bottles.
“Why?” One word. Oh so powerful. Oh so overused right now by our Sophie.
“Good question Sophie,” continued the doctor, “the bottle fairy takes the bottles to give to the babies who really need them.”
Sophie let go of my shirt and placed her hand confidently on her little chest.
“For me. The fairy gives me the bottles.”
The doctor smiled, “No Sophie, you’re a big girl now. Big girls don’t need bottles.”
Sophie smiled right back, finally understanding the doctor’s confusion. Then she straigthened her out.
“My is a baby. Sophie is a baby. My bottles. Me no like fairy. Me like pop pops and stickers. My get one now. Pretty please?”
Secure once again in her status as a baby, our little curly haired dictator grabbed my hand and her doggie and marched off to the lollipop jar to carefully select four lollipops. One for each of her siblings, that she would be happy to share.