Amah's Girl

I just bought this Halloween costume for my one-year-old daughter. I swore I wouldn't go all girl crazy with her. I was going to try and keep it a princess and Barbie-free zone in our home.

It still is.

But last year she was an Ewok and this year I'm strapping lady bug wings to her back. So there you go. And oh hell yes I bought the lady bug wand. So sue me. She may also happen to own a pair of bright red patent leather Mary Janes imported from Italy.

C'mon. The shoes totally make the outfit.

I'm not making her conform to gender stereotypes. I'm making her conform to fabulous. Okay?

She has also been known to rock the pigtails so hard it will make your ovaries twirl:

They are not pigtails. They are an explosion of hair happiness.

She can say "car," "baby" and "Elmo." When she is hungry she runs towards her highchair shouting, "Eat! Eat!" while she repeatedly puts her hand to her mouth. I think she is concerned that her father and I are a little slow. She also runs for the stairs and yells, "Baf? Baf?" every night before bed. I think she doubts our ability to feed and bathe her without prompting.

She said "Dada" long before she ever said "Mama." And she never really said a proper Mama. I'm not a Mommy. Long ago I decided that I would be a Mama and not a Mommy. As one friend put it, "Mama is more rock and roll."

But our dancing baby girl doesn't call me Mama or Mommy. She calls me Ah-Ma. Or Amah. She sounds like she is speaking English as a second language, which I suppose she is. It is sweet to hear her little voice in the morning, calling from the other room:

"Amah?"

"Amah?"

As though calling for her staff. She then pantomimes, "Eat" for me, and runs towards the TV yelling "Ehmo?" We pretty much follow her around and obey her commands. She knows her way to the park and she frequently walks her father there. Once there, she refuses to leave. I often get text messages from him, saying:

"Baby refuses to leave the park."

And so they stay for two hours.

This little baby girl runs our house. She has her father, her brother and me all wrapped around her finger. Occasionally she deigns us with a kiss goodnight, which she delivers with lips puckered like a fish.