Lately when I look at The Boss, I don't even recognize the little girl staring back at me. She's no longer a novelty in her cute, ill-fitting jeans. Instead, she fills out the denim and runs it ragged. Her face is taking kid-shape. She's sucking up experience and spitting it back out in the form of personality.
The Boss likes to put "back." Blocks are played with and returned to their box. She brings her unfinished cup of milk to the refrigerator when she's done and personally sees to it that the door is shut with a satisfied "closed!" Items she deems unnecessary are relegated to the garbage can. Just now she tried to throw out the newspaper before The Partner got his local fix. She is unlike I ever was: neat and focused. Maybe it's a phase and maybe it's not, but it is wholly unique to my frame of reference.
I suppose it stands to reason that she throws tantrums, too, when life hands her things that aren't easily assigned a proper place behind doors she can shut. Such situations are always exacerbated by the fact that her mind works faster than her tongue, and that my own mind is the furthest behind. She says what she means and means what she says, but I have no idea what she's talking about.
That's okay, though. It's all okay. We'll figure each other out as we go along.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
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7 comments:
They are amazing these creatures. Wait until she's the wise one. It happens before you know it.
chris must be thrilled that at least one woman in the home cleans! :)
The Boss reminds me of Mr. Chicken. And these types, they succeed, you see. Because the tantrums are eventually aimed inward.
What a girl you've made.
J has begun using the No in abundance as well in the last few days.
I'm already tired of it.
gah. that last was me. I don't know why blogger elected to sign me in as debbie. thanks for trying to do the legwork for me, blogger, but I've got it covered. no, really.
it's fun, isn't it. more fun than i'd ever imagined.
the unraveling of the daily mystery.
Just keep an eye on the remote control. My daughter loved tidying up too.
Three remotes later, and we gave up.
Now, sadly, we have to get our arses off the couch to change the channel.
I suppose we should look into a replacement remote since she is now ten, but that would take effort.
Easier to point to the telly and beller at a kid to change the freakin' channel.
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