La Petite Belle, that is.
As I massaged her little head last night for exactly seven minutes (time set by her) due to her “headache,” we had a heart-to-heart about girlfriends.
You know that’s something that’s near and dear to my heart.
But, as a child, I was a lot like my mini-me.
I was expressing my concern to her about not letting anyone make her feel less than the wonderful girl she is and not trying too hard to fit in. I told her to be herself. 
She has this great interest in cheerleading now because all the girls in her class are doing it. She said, “The girls already leave me out of everything and this would be one more thing they can do without me.” Pitiful.
She says the girls leave her out a lot.
I questioned her about all the times I’ve seen her playing with some of the other girls. We went through a few of her friends and she admitted she had one or two, maybe even three real friends.
But, then she said that it’s more fun to play ball with the boys. She said, “The girls only talk about Justin Beiber, sleepovers, and their feet.”
I said, “Their feet?”
She said, “Yeah, you know (raising her voice to sound more girly) like pedicures and manicures.” She wasn’t interested in talking about that stuff.
I giggled.
I guess the boys can be more fun sometimes.