"When I grow up can I wear your makeup?" Avocet asks, while spinning around the banister base of the stairs.
Putting away dishes, "Sure." I say.
"And when you are old, I'll put your makeup on for you."
Last week it was, "Mama, I'll feed you when you're old."
In the last few months, she is getting more and more maternal, so caring for animals and baby dolls. And the comments like above come up fairly often. They stop me in my tracks. They make my heart happy. On more than one occasion, I've hidden tears from her and Ceiba, who more than speaking as much about love, relishes in deep hugs and moments of her own with Chris or I. Ceiba is our quiet love bug, who just wants to be wrapped in a 10 minute long bear hug.
I kind of drill into them both (... regularly) about how important family is, how their sister is ALWAYS their best friend, how they WILL be in each other's weddings, how you stand up for each other on the playground and on and on. We lost their great grandfather a few weeks ago and since have had many talks about family, quality of life, the legacy you leave behind, what we hope for our children and so forth.
In Bangladesh, I remember how much the Muslim men wanted sons, specifically telling me Allah was blessing us a son even after I assured them the ultrasound was a girl. But our Mukta spoke often of how much she dreamt of a daughter, as girls care so much more for their aging parents. She told me how lucky we truly were to be blessed with daughters.
I don't expect our girls to take care of us, they'll have their own lives one day. But for now, I love that those kinds of conversations so often escape their lips. And if they grow up in a loving home, like we did, the thought of caring for aging loved ones is just what we do... forever.