The Murraying Kind

I don’t think this is my daughter’s first time around.

Although she’s only 3 in this life, I’m pretty sure she’s had a crack or two at this planet, previously.

If I had to guess when her last life here on Earth took place?  I’ d say somewhere in the 1950s.

Because she has the soul of the Perfect Housewife.

She’s been able to crack eggs, one-handed with no shell bits in the bowl, since she was one and a half.  Last year, she asked for her own vacuum cleaner. (I didn’t think she was serious.  She was.)  Her grandmother called me while The Girl was at her house, asking when we’d baked pies.   I laughed out loud.  (We don’t make pies, we buy them.)  She went on to explain that The Girl was using an old-fashioned, crank-handled apple peeler.

(Image from here.)

With no help.  And no instructions.

I had no explanation.

The Girl is never without a baby doll, who she is potty training and diapering and burping, and no she can’t just leave them and come have lunch because she is responsible for them, duh.

And when she’s not taking care of her babies, or cooking, or cleaning,

she’s playing Marrying.  (Which, in her own particular dialect, comes out sounding more like “Murraying”.)

I do not understand.

I have never, ever pitched marriage to her as a plan.  I’m not against marriage, per se.  I just don’t see it as a destination.  But I think she does.

She finds weddings fascinating.

She marries everything to everything else.

Barbie & Ken get married.

Her spoon and her fork get married.

When left with nothing else, she’ll even marry crayons.  (Can you imagine Blue talking about the wedding night to his blushing bride, Red? “Oh, I am gonna color you so hard.  You won’t be able to tell where the Blue starts and the Red ends.  When we get done there’s just gonna be a big puddle of purple left, you dig?  Aw, yeaaah!”  Anyway…)

We had a moment, tonight.  To be by ourselves and talk.

I asked her why she wanted to get married.

She just smiled.

I asked how old she thought she should be, when the deal goes down.

“How old were you?”

I told her I was 23, and that was too young.  She nodded, agreed.

“Are you going to marry a man or a woman?”

She laughs, looks at me like I’m slow.  She will marry a boy, she says, because she will want to have babies.  I start to explain that families with 2 moms can have babies, and families with 2 dads can have….but she senses this explanation is going to be bigger than she has patience for, so she tells me she will have 2 babies.  One will be named Tito, the other Apple.  (P.S., the boy is Apple.)  And she tells me that one day Tito and Apple will have babies, and that she will be their grandma, and….

I interrupt.  “You know, you don’t just get married.  You have to be married.  And when you get married, you promise you will stay married.   For your whole life.”

She tells me she knows that, stops just short of rolling her eyes at me.

And she tells me that’s why she is going to marry a nice boy, so she will like him for her whole life.

“What would a nice boy be like?”

According to The Girl, a nice boy will kiss you on the forehead and buy you fries and pick up the babies when they cry and open the car door for you.

(Image from here.)

She’s not entirely wrong, you know.  She’s kind of got a lot of the elements figured out, already, at the age of 3.

Nearly as figured out as I did at the age of 23.

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35 responses to “The Murraying Kind

  1. Just too cute. You’ve got a little old soul there. It is incredible how perceptive children can be if you we just take a moment to listen.

    I think – call me nuts – that my grandmother’s spirit lives on in my daughter. She has the same sparkle in her eye. The same inside joke that my grandmother used to laugh inwardly to herself and make everyone wonder what she’s up to.

  2. Amazing – I bet she’ll grow up to write cookbooks and edit Home and Garden.

  3. I wish I had that much figured out at 23. I’m 40 and my first thought was ‘buy her fries, that’s a good idea.’

  4. So sweet! And scary.
    I was 22. Not sure I got it. But I’m still married… and he buys me fries.

  5. She’s right! My sweetie buys me fries (and even gives me the loose ones that end up in the big bag) and pumps gas for me.

  6. after reading that little encounter with the crayons I think I need a shower.

  7. my son was obsessed with vacuum cleaners, and we got him a play one. he was good. i wanted to find him a miniature working one… but my ex thought that was mean…

    she sounds like an old soul…

  8. My wife prefers eclairs, and she hates being patted on the head, though she was probably okay with it at 3. I’m thankful for people like your daughter. We will need them to continue the species.

  9. Kid’s got an old soul, enjoy it, we don’t all get one (a kid that is) like that… and i’ll never look at coloring the same way again.

  10. So cute. Bless her little cotton socks! x

  11. How is it that marriage seems so natural to a three-year old, and to a twenty-nine year old it’s like this magical state of being that only barn owls and beavers truly achieve, because people are untrustworthy liars and mockers, and you really can’t rely on a single one of them?

  12. Okay, but the “crayon wedding night” dialogue was hilarious!

  13. Whooa, I too was enthralled by the crayola passage. Perhaps you should try your hand at a romance novella? Not that a serious work of fiction is out of the question.

    B. Stillmahart

  14. I would love to take her to one of those “specialists” who regress people to their past lives.

  15. A_wandering_mind

    Well I believe in reincarnation. Makes me sound crazy huh? But I have heard many stories of children being born knowing stuff that they should have no idea about.

  16. She sounds incredible. I have been shocked at how clear some aspects of kid’s personalities are. Makes me feel a bit redundant as a parent sometimes.

  17. She does have most of it figured out, except maybe for the incest part. Well, we won´t get caught up on minor details, now.

    When I was younger I never talked about getting married in this way. I talked about going away to college (oh hells yeah, I was destined to party and I knew it). But I did tell my mom that I wanted her to be my college roomate and promised her, swore on my life I wouldn´t change my mind when I grew up. She must have been kinda bummed when she knew I had officially changed my mind.

  18. I have no explanation as to why it has taken me so long to come across your blog. I’m just so happy that I finally have! Your daughter won my heart. Your son and his precocious knowledge of the taint, he won my heart, too. And you, you with your crayon seduction scene, you made me burst my spleen with laughing and trying to do so quietly so that I didn’t wake up the whole house! My sides hurt. Thanks for that. I look forward to reading you on a regular basis!

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