We have 2 Buzz Lightyear dolls. Today, 11-year-old G gave one to 6-year-old R, teasing her younger sister with:
"Ha ha, you have Bad Buzz! I have Good Buzz!"
R, quick with a retort: "Well, that's FINE because I LOVE Bad Buzz."
G: "No you don't. Bad Buzz is the bad guy."
R's reply? Get this:
"Bad Buzz started off bad, but then he becomes good in the end. I love him because he's had ADVENTURES. Good Buzz has only lived HALF A LIFE."
G and I are still gaping.
Six-year-old R is one passionate kid. Her kindergarten playground crew dubbed themselves the "Ninja Werewolf Dogs" and their mission is to chase the "Crying Princesses." Parents of several neighborhood boys say she's "the only girl my son wants to play with." She is brash, swashbuckling, and dramatic. In these respects, she could not be more different from me (well, except for the dramatic part).
So while the mom in me quakes at the thought of what her teen years will bring, the good girl in me can't help but cheer: Yes! Live a WHOLE life, R! Live a whole, brash, adventurous life!
(Preferably once you've turned 21).
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