Fifi is 100% percent pure unadulterated girl and I wouldn’t have it any other way. At 3, she is charming, girly, cute, forceful and so completely different to the boy it’s a joy to behold. She’s twigged that if she has her bath first, she can have her teeth cleaned first, and then gets prize position in bed next to me for story time. Every single night the boy does a Wrath of Khan style “Noooooo!” when he realises that Fifi has beaten him to the spot next to me.
She’s also very very funny. Ever since the unfortunate illness in December when I had to wash her hair four or five times in the night due to sickness, she has become obsessed with not having a shower. Bear in mind she’s three and has only had a shower on one night of her life. Often I’ll come home and won’t get a “Hello Daddy” but instead a “But I don’t want a shower.”. In fact the other night I came home to find Fifi in her pyjamas. Apparently she thought putting her pj’s on would get her out of having… a shower.
She has great comic timing but also, as I may have mentioned in the past, a set of lungs on her. Her latest trick is the endless cacophony of sobbing; gut busting heart wringing terribleness that seems to go on for ever and come from the pit of doom itself. No tears though, and once you pick her up, she’s all smiles again.
I have a feeling she’s practising wrapping me round her finger. When she gets it right, I may well be in trouble.