Because it was a birthday party, little Emily insisted in wearing a dress, and a tiara, although we were mostly weary grumpy adults getting together two days after my niece’s actual birthday. A couple episodes of Grey’s Anatomy pestered from the tv in the living room.
Emily pirouetted and waved her arms, for a long while. “She thinks she’s a ballerina. All the time,” her mother informed us, but still somehow more bemused than tired of it.
“No! Not a ballerina – I’m gonna be a cowgirl!”
What do cowgirls do? Do you like cows?
“I like horses!”
So you’re going to be a cowgirl who rides horses, then?”
“Yes.” Emily bobbed her head.
Then she stopped her ballet for a moment, she couldn’t hide a smug little grin. She said, loud enough for everyone to hear, but with the veil of a conspiratorial whisper.
“But I really want to be a unicorn!”