Milly has a new...hobby? pasttime? stunt? One day last week, she stripped all of the clothes off of her doll, Amy, and ran through the house with her, declaring that Amy was now a "wild child." (She turns each word into two syllables with her precise enunciation: "WY-uld CHY-uld.") Wild Child Amy was a source of great amusement for at least half an hour. I should have seen what was coming next.
Around the corner she ran, naked as the day she was born, yelling at the top of her little lungs, "WILD CHILD! WILD CHILD! I'M A WILD CHILD!" Around and around the house she ran, reveling in her newfound wildness, until the novelty wore off (and, I believe, she got a little chilly) and then she returned to her usual clothed state.
It was adorable (if a little unnerving), and I didn't think anything else about it. Wild Child was that day's game, and it was over.
But then, a couple of days later, Milly ran randomly into my bedroom - naked once again, proclaiming to be a wild child.
And again the next day, as we were getting ready to go somewhere or other, I saw her lifting her shirt over her little head. Wild Child was stopped, but only for the moment.
Tonight, my stepmom came over for dinner. We had a nice meal and had sent the girls off to play together while Gene stomped us thoroughly at Monopoly. Suddenly, the little streaker barreled through the kitchen, giggling and yelling "WILD CHILD!" We were surprised by the interruption, but I'm pretty sure it was the nakedness that surprised Granny-chele.
To date, Milly has not gone feral in public, and for this I am grateful. She seems to prefer being wild in the comfort and (relative) privacy of her own home. I pray that the notion of public nudity never occurs to her. I'm almost afraid to talk to her about it, lest it plants the notion into her little brain. It would be my luck that reminding her to not take off her clothes in public would result in a Wild Child streaking down the center aisle at church on Sunday morning.