My girls look like girls. They even have girls names. Somewhere around there, the similarity to anything resembling members of the female persuasion ends abruptly.
They talk like boys.
They fight like boys.
They eat like boys. (Dear God, do they eat like boys...)
In fact the term 'girl' in this house is often used in a derogatory manner, as in, 'get up you girl', if someone falls over, or 'don't be such a girl' when someone is rolling around in agonising pain.
The Peacemaker can be quite girly when she puts her mind to it (but I bet even she could drop a bloke with one punch if push came to shove).
So, for anyone who was imagining my life was a re-run of Little Women, and I was sat here all day surrounded by swathes of pink tulle and perfume, or that we have girly nights involving cosmetics and chick-flicks, forget it.
Match of the Day, slugging it out and remote control helicopters are nearer the mark.