Wisdom of a tomboy

Taylor: "Am I a girly-girl Mom?" as she is hanging from the monkey bars.

Me: "No, honey, I think you are a tomboy."

Taylor: "But my other mom was a girly-girl, so am I one?"

Me: "No, you are tomboy. You love to ride 4 wheelers, go fishing, and get dirty."

Taylor: "Well, yeah." while going across the monkey bars skipping a bar.

Me: "Girly-girls are afraid to get dirty or mess their hair up or get hurt."

Taylor: (wearing a look of astonishment) "I like to get dirty!"

Me: "I know you do."

Taylor: "I don't care if my hair gets messed up or my clothes get dirty. I just like to have fun. That's what life is all about!"

Me: (wearing a look of astonishment at the divine wisdom of my 8 year old)

Taylor: "Do girly-girls spit on their hands?" as she spits in the palm of her hand.

Me: "Nope, girly-girls think that spit is gross and full of germs."

Taylor: "That's dumb! If I spit on my hands that I can hold on to the bars better!" now she is hanging on the top bar, about 4 feet off the ground, where a swing should be attached.

Me: "That's right. You need some traction on those hands."

Taylor: "Are girly-girls afraid to fall?" *plop* she hits the ground.

Me: "Yes, they are honey, cause they might get hurt."

Taylor: "Were you a girly-girl when you were little?"

Me: "Nope."

Taylor: "Was Dad a tomboy?"

Me: (giggling) "Honey, tomboy is only in reference to girls--not boys."

Taylor: "Then was he a boyly-boy?" Now she is walking along the outside of the monkey bars, balanced on the top.

Me: "Yes, honey, Dad was a tough boy."

Taylor: "I sure am glad that I am not a girly-girl, cause it sounds like they don't have any fun."

Meanwhile, Jared gets home.

Taylor: "Dad, am I a girly-girl or tomboy?"

Dad: "You got quite a bit of tomboy in ya, baby girl, but there is nothing wrong with that."

Taylor: "Were you a boyly-boy Dad?"

Dad: (giggling) "I guess you could say that."

Taylor: "Did you do tough boy things growing up?"

Dad: "Yeah, honey, I did. And I sure didn't grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth."

Taylor: "Why would you want a silver spoon in your mouth?"

Dad: "I didn't, honey."