A little girl doesn’t own much. All of what she has is a gift from her parents or other loving adults. Even the things she holds most dear, her “specials” were given her by someone else.

But, my littlest one needs her soft floppy dog to sleep. His name is Nashville (her older sister has a special stuffed dog named Memphis) and he sleeps with her beside her pillow every night.

She needs him so much, that my mother went back to get it from her house on Monday. Naomi had spent the day with her grandmother and after a morning and afternoon of playing, they left got in the car to come back home. Ten minutes into the drive my mother realized the floppy dog was left back on the sofa, alone, without his toddler.

She turned the car around to get him. For Naomi. Even though it meant she would be stuck in afternoon traffic.

Because the special dog, (just like her special flowered blanket with the silky side and the fuzzy side) is hers. It is hers and only hers.

In a home where little girls are expected to share their toys with each other, and daughters who don’t want to share are reminded where their playthings come from, most things are somewhat community property. Books are in common shelves. Games are in places where all can play. Even their rooms are entered freely by each other (at least at this point in their lives) and doors are usually left open.

Even my bedroom is often a spot for family movie-watching or computer time. It has become a family room of sorts during daylight hours.

We teach our children to share everything and try to teach them to be generous and giving.

But sometimes, there is something that is only theirs. Naomi’s Nashville, her floppy dog that deserves a trip through the washing machine, belongs to her. And I think its okay for her not to share it.

Every little girl needs something to be their own, untouchable by her sister.

Because someday, when she is a mother, and her own little girls crawl all over her all day long, she may not have much that only belongs to her. A mother share her water bottles, her bananas and her bowls of cereal. Mothers share their pillows and their television shows and they let their daughters borrow/have their clothes when they are old enough. Mothers share everything.

But a little girl can have her things, like Nashville and her fuzzy-silky blanket. And her mother won’t ask her to share and won’t even touch them (unless it is to “steal” them to put through the wash when her daughter isn’t looking).