Maddie and Her Blowup Doll?

This post is based on a recent article I wrote for Kane County Magazine.

http://www.kanecountymagazine.com/articles/2012/01/31/WriteThisDown/index.xml

If I had to categorize my children, I think it would be safe to say that my daughter, Maddie, is the lover, and my son, Colin, is the fighter.

While my son definitely has his moments where he loves on his mommy and likes to give the pretty ladies at the grocery store his best “smolder” with his deep, dark, brown eyes, he usually opts for getting kicked out of preschool for biting the teacher. 

That, and I think he says “hate” at least 10 times an hour just to say it — I hate dolls, I hate “Good Luck Charlie,” I hate salt, I hate windows and I hate Justin Bieber. We correct him constantly (although my husband said he let the Justin Bieber one slide) and tell him that he shouldn’t use that word, especially for no reason.  

Then there is my daughter. She will walk in the room and say, “Mom?”

“Yes, Maddie,” I answer, as if she is going to tell me some epic story, ask an important question or request a treat.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, honey.”

This goes on and on all day — while we are driving in the car, at the dinner table or while she is making Valentine’s Day cards in the middle of July. It’s like the Paul McCartney song, “Silly Love Songs” — he says it 18 times in five minutes! 

She also tells me how much she loves me and measures it in miles.

“Mom, I love you 20 million miles away.” 

I feel bad telling her that if she says it too much, it will take away how special it is because, in all reality, it is always special to me when she says it. The way I see it, I will save up all the “I love yous” now because I am sure there will come a day when I won’t see or talk to her every day and will miss hearing it. 

Of course, there will be the tumultuous teenage years where I am sure I will hear plenty of, “I hate you, MOM!” especially after she knows I wrote this article about her.

While Maddie loves her “Momma Time,” by far the best testament to my daughter’s romanticism is her ability to dream of being a princess and marrying a prince, all while dancing around the house in a princess gown singing her own silly love songs. 

We’ve had to answer the tough questions about love already, like why she can’t marry her dad, her brother or Prince Eric from “The Little Mermaid.” 

Therefore, she has taken it upon herself to find a new “Prince Charming” — a blowup astronaut. My in-laws actually brought this 3-foot spaceman back for Colin from their trip to Cape Canaveral last year. However, Maddie commandeered him, and now he is the object of her affection.

I am not quite sure how I feel about my 4-year-old daughter smooching a blowup doll, but I also don’t quite know how to explain to her why it is so inappropriate, since in her little preschooler mind she is just “pretending.” I mean, she really doesn’t have many other options for mates since we’ve ruled out the boys in her family, and she usually spends more time arguing with the little boy next door than playing with him. Poor little girl just wants someone to love.

And the hilarity of her courtship continues with the wonderful love songs she sings to her astronaut as she waltzes around the family room. If I could include audio in my article, it would really make it more meaningful. Let’s just say she is quite the lyricist and should probably stick to “writing” songs rather than performing them.

One performance went something like this:

“Ooohhhh!  I love you … you’re my true love, and I can’t wait for you to get back from vacation! I love you … you’re the only one for me, and I can’t wait to marry you when you get back from vacation and hold you ... .” 

Maybe she is channeling Elton John with her own version of “Rocket Man.” Hey, most people don’t even know the real words of that song anyway, according to the Volkswagen commercial on TV.  

No matter how you slice it, she is a lover and a dreamer; she has an odd connection to music from the 1970s; and she is potentially the future wife of an astronaut. 

No matter what, I would hate to shatter her dreams of true love, even if she can’t even see his face behind his space helmet.   kc