On Being Six

Last night we had friends over for dinner. They have three children, the youngest being a six year old girl.

As a way of keeping her amused, I pointed her to a big box of things that Iris was disposing of, as she goes about the rather daunting task of cleaning out her room before going off to school. The box had all kinds of goodies in it: stuffed toys, jewelry, trinkets, etc. But what this little girl latched on to were the various creams and lotions, half used bottles of nail polish, and leftover make-up. She had to try all the perfumes (reminds me of a time at university when I did the same in Holt Renfrew), and by the time she left our place she was looking and feeling very fashionable and grown up with her blush and done up nails.

I had forgotten how much fun kids are at that age. Not that I want grand kids any time soon, but I think when (if) I do eventually have them, I’m going to have a ball.

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