My Badoo is a little big girl. She has always wanted to be big.
“When will I get boobies?” she asks. We are folding clothes and she has fumbled her way into a bra, it hangs around her neck like a lacy noose.
“Someday,” I say wistfully, hastily putting the bra away. “Not soon, but someday.”
“I never want to get boobs,” Gappers pipes up. “They get in the way of your armpits.”
Too true, sweet Gappers, too true.
Gappers has never wanted to be big. She would be content to stay at any age she has ever been. I hope this is always true. The big will catch up soon enough.
“What colour eye shadow do you want?” Badoo asks, clutching her beloved new make up (natural! all natural!) and poking a bright yellow powder towards me (not sure how bright yellow can be natural but still! all natural!). “And do you want lipstick? I’ve got pink or red…”
Sometimes I struggle to know how far to encourage the Badoo’s big girl play. She wears stilletos and pretends to be her teacher (there are no secrets, Mrs A!). She flirts with boys and chants things like “tricked ya, tricked ya, now I’m gunna kiss ya”. She is getting married to a boy in her class, but not until September.
Part of me knows this is just little girls being little big girls, but part of me is scared. The Badoo is a different kind of big girl to her mother and it’s hard to know when the game stops and the real Badoo begins.
“Can I put the yellow eyeshadow on my lips?” I ask.
“Why would you want to do that?” She is horrified. “That’s not how it’s done, Mumma. You’d look really silly like that. Make up is for making you look pretty, not silly.”
I hope that’s true, sweet Badoo, I hope that’s true.