Madeline is my third child of four and the only girl.
When I tell people this, the typical response is “Oh, poor Madeline!” They don’t know her.
Madeline rules. Literally. The following is a prime example of what I mean.
When they were nine and five-years-old, the older boys shared a room. Three-year-old Madeline had a room by herself, right next to the boys.
Every night I’d tuck the boys in first and then go in to say goodnight to Madeline. One night as I left her room and started down the hall, Madeline called me back:
“Maaah-uummm,” she sang like only a three-year-old with something important to say can.
I turned around and started back toward her open door, “Yes, Maddie Gracie?”
She was sitting up in her queen-sized bed (don’t get crazy – it was a hand-me-down when MacGyver and I got a king), “Boys talking,” she chimed, still sort of singing the news.
Sure enough, her brothers were in their room chattering away. I couldn’t let it go, of course, because the I would have been sending the wrong message. Lights out, go to bed meant go to sleep, no talking.
So I obliged, went into the boys room and told them to settle down and go to sleep.
As I walked out of their room and passed Madeline’s room, I looked to see her still sitting up in bed, grinning widely, and giving me two-thumbs-up for a job well done.
Yes, Madeline rules.