Claire has taken to calling me “girl.”
As in “Yeah, girl, you’re probably right [someone did want our parking space]” or “Giiiiiiirl, that’s a cool skirt” or “Sure, girl, I know what you mean.” Even, to my horror, “Get it, girl.”
The first instance of “girl” was a couple of weeks ago. I would love to meet the sassy 2nd grader who started this trend, and I definitely want to be a fly on the wall when Claire and all her friends are standing around calling each other “girl.”
As I type, she’s down the street with a couple of girls – nay, “girls” – from the neighborhood. We so lucked out to have two other kids her age right on the block. I’ll call them E1 and E2. E2 seems to be the quiet one in the group, but E1 strikes me as the ringleader, very bold. I would not put it past her to have been the one to bring “girl” into our lives. I imagine them down there right now, scootering around in circles. “Girl, that’s a cute top you’re wearing.” “Giiiiiirl, I wish I had sandals like those.”
Claire’s last day of 2nd grade was Friday, and the change in her this year has been incredible. I feel like she was still a baby when she started, but now she’s this long-legged, headstrong girl who gets exasperated at her father when he asks too many questions (“Daaaa-aad, it’s going to be okay”) and talks to me like she’s on an episode of Sister, Sister.
I shudder to think what the 3rd grade will bring.