Like Dolls in a Dollhouse

My boss’s daughter Isabel is eight years old. She often comes into my office to see me and tells me all about all of her theories on life. This last Friday, she was in a particularly good mood. Her older brother Mason left to go to Virginia for three weeks, and she feels like a freed bird. Mason is a good kid, but as brothers and sisters are sometimes, Isabel can’t always appreciate him. So she was telling me all about what she was going to do in his absence–hide his DVD’s, for example.

Feeling like I should be a good influence, I told her, “Isabel, what you don’t realize is that you are going to miss Mason so much by the time he gets back that you will have forgiven him for everything he’s ever done to you. You’re not going to want to hide his DVD’s.” Isabel straightened up, looked at me in exasperation, rolled her eyes, and said, “Kris! Brothers and sisters are NOT like dolls in a dollhouse: smiling all the time, sharing the bathroom, sharing their toys! It’s more like, ‘Drop, and give me fifty [pushups]!’ or ‘Give me fifty dollars!!’” And I had to remember that indeed! My siblings and I were NEVER like dolls in a dollhouse.

I like Isabel. I think she’s pretty smart!