A few weeks back I had my nieces over while their parents were out on a date. Being girls they wanted to do girly things like play dress up and put on make-up. Once I was able to get them on the idea of painting their toes they rejoiced with utter glee. Rylee — the second oldest— suggested that they do fingers too. Keira — the third oldest — scram “YA!”. I calmed the two down for the simple fact that I didn’t want Madi (she had just had surgery two weeks prior) to feel left out since she couldn’t paint hers.
I told them no, Rylee and Keira both groaned and demanded an explanation. Before I could even open my mouth Madi shouted in frustration, “It’s because I can’t paint mine and it wouldn’t be fair hu Kaite.” Caught off guard I didn’t know what to say and told them to just start painting their nails. I couldn’t help but keep replaying words and reaction out. She wanted me to make things fair for her. Her face was looking to me to be her savior. She just wanted to do the same things they could do. Be normal; to be the same as her sister and cousin.
This is one of the lasting effects that lingers just out of the reach of a six-year-old.
Kaitlin Weyland 