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Good mornin’!

Sunny no longer likes going to bed.

Strike that.

Sunny no longer likes sleeping. Period. As demonstrated by her refusal to nap yesterday, followed by a sleep-protest until 10pm and then a wake-up of 5am.

She’s on her way to a vampire-like existence. Doesn’t she know that that card has been way overplayed? It’s so 2009.

As soon as we begin the dinner routine, it starts:

No dinner. No bath. NO NIGHT NIGHT!

She’s aware of our pattern, our dubious plot to provide food, cleanliness and rest. And she is having none of it.

This has caused her to hate Tomorrow.

Yes, Tomorrow.

Evil evil Tomorrow that is the cause of this need to go to bed. If it weren’t for Tomorrow, we wouldn’t be proposing such a horrid thing as sleep.

She persistently wails, NO TOMORROW! NOOoOOoO TOOoOoo-MOoOooOO-RoOOOoOOW.

It is pitiful. And also highly adorable.

Like when we lie down in bed with her and list off all the positive and important benefits of a good night’s sleep, because it is totally reasonable to reason with a 2-year old, and she’ll say, “No night night…. GOOD MORNIN’ MOMMY DADDY!”

Yes, this is her attempt at convincing us, silly parents, that it is not in fact night time, it’s the morning. Didn’t we realize? And boy, she says it with such gusto and enthusiasm and hope. That precious kernel of hope that pretending that it is in fact the morning might actually convince us that she does not need to sleep.

I cannot tell you how much delight this response brings me, but in the moment, I have to keep on my stern Mommy-face and reiterate, “No, Sunny. It’s night time. We’re going to sleep now, and then tomorrow we’ll see the morning.”

Which only provokes the rails against Tomorrow.

15 years from now she’ll realize how preposterous it was of her to ever resist an opportunity to sleep. But for now, “GOOD MORNIN’ EVERYONE!”

Talking to Our Daughters.

This weekend, a friend forwarded me a link to an article by Lisa Bloom in the Huffington Post titled: How to Talk to Little Girls.

Go on, give it a read. I’ll wait.

You back? Okay, good.

It drove home something I’ve been aware of my entire life. Something my parents tried desperately to combat with me and my sister, and something that my husband and I are aware is already impacting our own daughter. The emphasis on appearance. On her looks and clothing over her personality.

Just yesterday we visited the hospital where I’ll be delivering The Sesame Seed and the encounter with the nurse’s station went as follows:

Nurse #1: Oh! Look who’s going to be a Big Sister. Are you not the most beautiful little girl?

Nurse #2: I love your pretty hair bow. It makes you look so pretty.

Nurse #3: Hello, princess. Do you want some juice?

Putting aside the fact that Nurse #3 offered to literally juice up my kid on sugary goodness right before the start of a tour when she would have otherwise happily fallen asleep in the backpack (instead she spent the tour tear-assing around the hospital like a whirling dervish. And then she crapped her pants), I was awed by how programmed the nurses were to comment on my daughter’s appearance instantly upon meeting her.

I don’t blame the nurses, it is a societal norm to address little girls in this manner. But it was nonetheless troubling. Sure, I want my child to feel and know that she is beautiful, but even more importantly, I want her to know that she is valued. That is a difficult message to grasp about oneself if everyone’s initial instinct is to comment and praise your external appearance.

When I asked James after the tour if he had noticed, he said that he was uncomfortable that one of the nurses repeatedly called Sunny a “princess,” but that he hadn’t taken note of Nurse #1’s and Nurse #2’s comments.

We are so accustomed to this kind of address of little girls that it goes unrecognized. Even by parents that are cognizant of such norms.

But we’ll keep trying to combat our own language and engagement, as proposed by Lisa Bloom, because it has a greater impact than any of us realize.

So, one tiny bit of opposition to a culture that sends all the wrong messages to our girls. One tiny nudge towards valuing female brains. One brief moment of intentional role modeling. Will my few minutes with Maya change our multibillion dollar beauty industry, reality shows that demean women, our celebrity-manic culture? No. But I did change Maya’s perspective for at least that evening.

– Lisa Bloom