Identity Crisis

I've always known my daughter is a deep thinker. I mean, she's been contemplating her navel since she was six months old.

Now that she is the ripe old age of three, her lifelong search to figure out who she is has reached new heights.

Recently, we had just finished eating dinner. The restaurant was closing. The barstools were lined up away from the bar for cleanup. Being the adventurous tyke she is, Rachel wanted to walk across the barstools and then make her way back.

The bartender, drawn in by Rachel's porcelain face and beautiful hair, decided to strike up a conversation.

"Hello, little girl! You sure are pretty! What's your name?"

"Ray-chuh," came the reply.

"What is it?" the bartender asked.

I tell her. "It's Rachel."

"Hi Rachel!" she says enthusiastically.

"No, not Rachel!" replies my daughter. "Ray-chuh!!"

I shake my head. "This is something new with her."

"My name is not Rachel," she repeats. "It's Ray-chuh."


Later that night, I walk into the bathroom. Rachel is on her stepstool. She is stalling having to brush her teeth by making faces at herself and laughing at them.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm acting like Rachel!" is the reply.

"You're not acting like Rachel!" I say. "You ARE Rachel!"