I say all of the time I’m not anti-girly, I’m anti-limitation.

Here’s how this works: I get home from Zumba, greet the family, check messages, and then Amelia tells me I look slimey and should take a shower. Mr. Pigtail Pals and Benny Boy begin a discussion on the merit of man nipples, so Amelia and I head into the bathroom to take off the finger nail polish from a birthday party this weekend and for me to shower while she sits on the foot stool and chats up a storm. She then decides she wants to put on make up before dinner so she gets the make up out of the dress up box and isn’t really applying it so much as she is setting up some kind of science lab with it.

I tell her about how hard I danced in class tonight to make my muscles strong, and then I ask her if we could go on any adventure in the world, where should we go and she launches into a tale about going to Antarctica via Hawaii, then up to Costa Rica for smoothies and monkey catching, with the grand finale in the Wisconsin Dells to perfect belly flops and cannonballs. She then asks if we can paint our toe before bed and I notice the puppy has teal blue eyelids and muzzle.

And that? Is how we roll.

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