As one phase comes to a close, another begins. For my daughter, Ellie, that meant a deep dive into the world of unicorns and fairytales. I remember the summer she was about to turn three when I discovered a local production of a beloved musical. Taking Ellie to her first show was both thrilling and unpredictable.
The moment the curtains opened, Ellie was captivated, despite missing her usual nap. The music was enchanting, but my focus remained solely on her reactions. I wanted to engrave those moments of joy into my memory. I could see her eyes sparkle during the opening songs, particularly when the cast joyfully exclaimed, “Hello! Hello! Hello, hello, hello!” The delight on her face when the characters sang about a grand feast was priceless.
However, as the story took a darker turn with the introduction of wolves, I felt a rush of anxiety. The theater darkened, and the chilling music intensified. Just when I feared Ellie might be scared, she let out a sound that started as a shriek but quickly transformed into uncontrollable laughter. Her joy was infectious, prompting chuckles from those around us. “Mommy, those wolves were so funny!” she exclaimed as we exited. “They sure were, just like you!” I replied, filled with laughter.
Once we reached the car, I handed Ellie a bag containing my old unicorn and fairy dolls—a remnant of my childhood. She immediately began playing with them, and so began her full-blown obsession with all things princess and fantasy.
Our home soon overflowed with unicorn-themed items: toothbrushes, notebooks in every shade of pink and purple, and an endless supply of stickers—stuck everywhere, from her cheeks to the couch. We amassed a collection of costumes and toys, each adorned with enchanting motifs.
As I watched this phase unfold, I couldn’t help but reflect on my own childhood obsessions. At about 11 or 12, I went through a brief but intense fascination with horror films. My parents, supportive as ever, indulged my quirky interests. I vividly remember our weekend trips to the video store, where I would excitedly place horror VHS tapes on the counter. With my babysitting earnings, I’d even buy magazines dedicated to my favorite scary characters, bypassing the typical teen heartthrobs.
My peak horror phase culminated in a thrilling trip to see a highly anticipated sequel in theaters with my dad. Following that, I hosted sleepovers where I would frighten my friends with my collection of horror memorabilia. I often wonder how I managed to keep friends during that time.
Every child navigates through various phases, some more peculiar than others (mine certainly stands out). Regardless of what my children experience, I am committed to supporting them just like my parents did for me.
Whether my oldest daughter chooses to dress in dark colors for months or my son dedicates his Friday nights to Dungeons and Dragons, I embrace their passions. Even if my youngest decides to become a vegetarian at 12, I’ll be right there beside her. And when these phases evolve into lifelong commitments, I’ll celebrate them wholeheartedly. After all, how could I not, given my own quirky upbringing?
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In conclusion, embracing and supporting our children’s evolving interests is a vital aspect of parenting. Each phase, no matter how unique or whimsical, shapes who they are becoming and deserves our love and encouragement.