Inside my home. In my very own kitchen. A girl. A real live little girly girl, came into my house and she stayed for a while. She is a friend of my youngest boy, but she has moved away and was back for a visit.She sat. She colored. She quietly nibbled at snacks...one at a a time. She drew me a picture and it wasn't my birthday and I did not ask. She danced. She did not once shout or run or tell me loudly how badly she had to go to the bathroom. Legos did not morph into weapons, and I was not asked to feign death. She made houses and animals. She giggled. She did not wrestle. She walked all the way down the stairs, stepping on each step. When her grandfather came to pick her up, she came downstairs, quietly put on her own clean WHITE coat with faux fur trim, her pink rain boots, and gathered all her own things. As she waved goodbye, I refrained from pathetically begging her to stay. Then she was gone. For just a couple of hours I was transported into a world of princesses and pink and rows of magic marker flowers.