If you look past the obvious :glitter:sparkle:pink:omg:explosion:, Alexis and I are very much alike. We're clarinet-playing book nerds who love sports and writing.
Oof. That hurt to write. Those labels? I hate those labels. I hate all labels, really. I prefer to be that person who can't really be described or categorized. I like to be all of the things but none of the things. Don't call me a working mom or a blogger or anything like that. I wear a lot of hats in any given day and I long ago decided to tear the labels off of every single one of them.
Alexis, though. Along with the obvious :glitter:sparkle:pink:omg:explosion:, that child lives for labels. Maybe it's part of growing up or maybe it's just her, but she is constantly seeking ways to categorize herself.
For what it's worth, she can only be in one category at a time.
That's the reason behind her recent musing about quitting cheer. In her mind, you can't be all in with dance AND continue to be a cheerleader. When you hear me arguing with her that she is so going to be in cheer, know that it's because I know she's lying to herself. She may think she'd be happy with just dance, but really she'd last about two weeks before she realized the error of her ways. Fortunately, it will work itself out because cheer starts while dance is out-of-session. It will be a one thing at a time situation, so she'll change her mind like some people change underwear.
(Do you know how much physical pain is involved with ME telling MY KID that she needs to keep considering being in cheer? Do you know how much I would looooove to not deal with it anymore? Alas, that kid's happy runs deep when cheering. Too deep.)
It was probably a month ago that Alexis declared herself a Very Serious Dancer and started not wanting to do anything else. Forget basketball. That was SO second grade. Cheer isn't important. Of course. There could be no caring about band. All of the things are lame.
Just when she had everything all perfectly lined up and had herself neatly organized into categories, along came Harry.
Potter, that is. Harry Potter.
It was early December when Alexis checked the first book out at the library. It was yesterday that she finished the third book. She's cruising through pages fast as fast can be and falling deeper into that label with every passing second.
NOTHING ELSE MATTERS.
Which, that's all fine. I understand the repercussions of having a book nerd, after all.
But it did make for an interesting Christmas. I finished shopping for Alexis early. Early November, I think. There was a lot of Elvis, plenty of clothes, and a few electronic items that we knew she wanted.
There was no Harry.
But then she fell down that rabbit hole at the 11th hour and left me scrambling to get something under the tree. I did manage, for what it's worth. It wasn't a lot, but there were a few little things.
But not all of her gifts were Potter-related.
And Alexis was very not amused by that fact.
One label I'm willing to accept is that one that rhymes with "procrastinator." I was going to find a word that actually rhymes with "procrastinator," but then decided to do it later because why would I do anything any sooner than absolutely necessary? I'd rather procrastinate.
But I don't procrastinate buying Christmas gifts.
And there you go. THAT is what being proactive gets you -- a kid who is cranky because she didn't get what she didn't know she wanted until basically Christmas week.
