She's not just a pretty face, although she is that.
She's not just the Easter Bunny in disguise, although she is that too.
Sometimes she is the commonly sited angry ballerina-farmer. You don't want to mess with her then. Sometimes that's a pitchfork she wields.
And she is also a scientist. Her bedroom doubles as a lab and only scientists are allowed in.
At first glance that worried me a bit. What if my scientist needs someone to pray with her at night? And even hard core scientists must have the need to cuddle sometimes, right?
What a relief! Mom and Dad are scientists a little bit and can still enter when needed.
In her newly aquired role, she spent some time organizing her room and labeling her drawers this weekend. This is a good sign I hope of neat rooms in the future and fewer tantrums when she can't find stuff. "Stuff" can now be found in the "stuff drawer". That should even out the emotions a bit.
And science stuff has it's own place, at the top of the hierarchy where it should be.
In it, she has her book with all things scientific (4000 Things You Should Know), a notebook and pen to record her observations during experiments, and her pager. It's a busy life and she must be available at all times in cases of scientific emergencies.
She may have one of those emergencies in a few hours when she discovers her belly rumbling at lunchtime after having refused most good things on offer for her lunch box. Unfortunately nutrition is not her chosen area of study. Perhaps she will write her observations in her notebook anyway.
If I don't like cheese or yoghurt or pudding or fruit or juice or cake
or meat, I am hungry and grumpy in the afternoons. Tomorrow I
must experiment with foods and see if that solves the problem.
I'm confident that her studies will help her in life.