I am all for individuality. I want all my kids to have it. I want them to be able to stand up in any social situation and proclaim at the top of her lungs "CAR PE DIEM!" Hopefully, it suits the situation so that her reputation is not soiled.
However, it has come to my attention that my desire for a functioning, confident child is quickly being replaced by a roll of duct tape. Her timing is horrible. She barters more than OPEC. Ask her once to do something and the regret is immediate that a request was even uttered as she begins her filibuster. Asking her to get her pajamas on is usually followed with a banter about how cotton pajamas are being hemmed by the children of 3rd world countries and those governments are not paying those children more than pennies on the dollar. WHAT THE HELL?!?!?! Just go change. "Does it mean bed time," she usually asks. No, Peyton, it means a damn cocktail party. It's like talking to a Republican, Democrat or worse yet....a teenager. Two words come to mind. SHUT....UP!
A few nights ago, she gave my wife a look that could freeze water after she was asked to do something simple like brush her teeth. I immediately told her not to look at her Mother like that. Her response? Shoulders shrugged, she said "Did it look like I was doing that?" The look on her face was one of ass-clown bewilderment. Oh...no you didn't. I took two steps towards her and she cowered into the bathroom, toothbrush in hand. She fluffs her feathers with the best of them, but cannot really follow through. At 5-years old, I am not sure I want follow through. All of this unwanted emotion is coming from her without the help of hormones. Once her eggs start dropping, I am going on a long vacation.
It is difficult raising a diva. I am not sure where her dominating personality came from. The only thing missing from her lion-taming repertoire (her brother being the lion) is a whip. She reminds me of a cat, all fluffed up and growling, tail enlarged to 5 times its normal size. Her bark is worse than her bite. I am amazed at her lack of fear, however. Her brother, and frankly, her father, hate spiders. She kills them with the best of them. But when it comes to wanting her to go to sleep, there is something that makes her want to fight it. She has to pee, or blow her nose, or pee out her nose...something always makes her get up. If I didn't know any better, this girl had a UTI.
Instead of milk, maybe she should have cranberry juice?
I am not a saint. I rant a lot. Some times I get heated in my ramblings. If you are botherd by an occasional F-Bomb, turn away now. If you don't mind it, stick around, read on. You'll laugh and cry all in one viewing!
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