Little Mama

Ava is a girl. No, I have not suffered a recent blow to the head that required a reminder of my child's gender, nor do I assume that you have. So in an attempt to clarify the reason for my seemingly obvious declaration, allow me to write that sentence again: Ava is a Girl. With a capital G.

I think my favorite manifestation of this fact right now is her relationship with Dolly. You see, I noticed from the time Ava was tiny that she had an attraction to any toy with a face. So last week I took her to Toys R Us so she could help me pick out a proper baby doll. As we wandered from isle to isle, checking out what each baby had to offer, Ava reached her little arms out to every one, handling the ones I gave her with a awe I didn't think was possible at 14 months.

Now, I don't know how many of you have shopped for baby dolls recently, but I gotta tell you it's a bit daunting. Actually, the word I'm looking for is "scary". They don't just sit there any more, looking sweet and occasionally opening and closing their sleepy little eyes; they jump at you, playing peek-a-boo with blankets held in their stiff, unnatural arms, or literally begging you to pick them up in voices that must have been recorded for a Stephen King film. In the end I was able to avoid anything that was bound to give me nightmares, and we went home with an adorable, blue-eyed baby that will never move on her own - I hope. And Ava loves her. She holds her and pats her little back, muttering "awwwww....." as she rocks Dolly back and forth.

And I watch my Little Mama with a tear in my eye. I can't wait to see what my Girl has in store for us next.