lil' miss independent

Meet B.  My 2 1/2 year old who has a personality that’s quite unique for someone of her tiny stature.  Granted, she’s quite tall for her age (as if she has a choice with a daddy who stands at 6’9” and mommy who is just about 6′!), but to watch someone who stands at just about 3 feet tall stand defiantly with her hands on her hips, or crossed angrily in front of her (both common scenes following the ‘evil word NO’ in our household) is quite a funny little sight.

B came into this world with very little difficulties, but shortly after bringing her home, I realized that she most definitely has her own agenda for how her world revolves.  She and I didn’t necessarily ‘mesh well’ when it came to nursing, so much to my disappointment (both psychological as well as financial!), she became a bottle baby at the young age of 1 month.  Faster than I can really recall, she grew to become the age where we could start her on baby food.  Rice cereal and oatmeal at first, followed by fruit and veggies…just like Gav, right?  Wrong-O!  I remember the first time we had B taste some rice cereal.  My dear friend Jill was visiting from Philly and was going to be witnessing a momentous occasion in my young daughter’s life…or so I thought.  Donning a fresh bib and drool-free bib for the photo-op, B sat comfortably in her baby papason as mommy neatly prepped a spoon with a *delicious* bite of flavorless cardboard-like mush.  I think I’ll let the photos do the talking…

mmm...

or...not...

And that face pretty much sums up B’s response to any sort of solid food from that day until she reached the age of one.  Nothing, not even the ‘good stuff’ (peaches, mashed sweet potatoes, hell, even french fries!) could change her mind.  Did it ever occur to her that formula is ridiculously expensive?!  I joke with my mom that B knew this fact, and didn’t care.  She wanted what she wanted and no one was going to change that.
Welcome to our life with B.  That strong-willed personality has since become stronger and more defiant at times, although don’t get me wrong, she is just as good a little girl as her brother is a little boy.  B’s main focus in life is to make herself the main focus of life.  Anyone’s life.  Everyone’s life.  When I run errands on weekends, B comes with me.  Crooked arm with her hand facing outward, purse filled with the essentials: princess cell phone, lip gloss, Cinderella clip-on earrings, and a plastic tiger (you never know when you’ll need one), B is the epitome of a ‘mini-me’, minus the plastic tiger.  Her spitfire personality lights up the store, and she saunters through the aisles, narrating her life in her adorable voice at an audible level, specifically to attract the attention of those around her.  It works.  She is pleased.  Her curly hair or friendly smile is typically the topic of conversation, but she’ll take any compliment.  Any.  And that which she does not receive, she seeks out.  Piercing eyes stare into you until you realize that this darling little creature is ogling you like an art museum exhibit, silently questioning why you are not calling her adorable as she believes you should be doing.  Once you do as she is subconsciously summoning you to do, she is pleased and frolics off down the aisle toward her next ‘victim’.  Sweet lord, please help us when she is a hormone-crazed teenager.  I think her father is in the market for the ideal fear-inducing ‘dad prop’.

Today, we had a lunch date with my dear friend Annette.  Being in the midst of potty training, we’ve been relying on dresses while at home, as they make the whole process a little easier on us all.  As B was chosing her attire for the day, she felt that an adorable sundress would be the most appropriate choice, despite the 40 degree temperatures.  Defiance, foot-stamping, and an intense level of negotiations that could contend with both Samuel L. Jackson and Kevin Spacey, and she’s donning a much more weather-appropriate frock.  Next comes hair.  Although she has very little, we have found a few products that we’re experimenting with to give the poor girl a style less reminiscent of Cosmo Kramer.  I honestly don’t think it would matter though, B would ‘make it work’ even if her hair was a disastrous mess (some days it is!).  Her ‘look’ was complete and we were nearly ready to go.

But wait!  What’s this?  B requests a photo shoot.  Not in so many words, but she told me to take her picture.  I did.  She wanted to see it.  She looked.  She asked me to take it again.  This went on for some time, until she was pleased with the results.
Welcome to life with B…

There were quite a few photos (nearly 40) that did not ‘meet her approval’.  God help us.