Isabella Age 4
"I do it myself!"
Isabella's new mantra had replaced "No" as the most-used phrase in the Marchetti household. She wanted to do everything herself, dress herself (resulting in backwards shirts or tumbled buttons and mismatched shoes), pour her own juice (resulting in sticky floors), brush her own hair (resulting in so many tangles that made Sienna wince).
"Sweetheart, you may need help with—"
"NO! I do it!" Isabella yanked the brush through her dark curls with the determination of someone defusing a bomb.
Sienna caught Luca's eye across the bathroom. He was trying not to laugh.
"Your daughter," Sienna mouthed.
"My daughter when she's difficult. Your daughter when she's sweet," he mouthed back.
Twenty minutes and several tears later, Isabella's hair was presentably brushed and they were heading to her first dance class. Pink leotard, pink tights, and a pink ballet slippers. She looked like a tiny, fierce ballerina.
