Monthly Archives: November 2013

The Tale of Bad Behaviour

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Our oldest used to alert us to her deviant behaviour by saying, “Don’t look at me”. Sometimes she’d be caught doing something that she shouldn’t and before I could say anything she would say, “Too late. It’s already done”. As though she were saying – Look, Mom, you might as well not say “don’t do such and so”, I have already done it; let’s just move on to being friends again.

She’s either in training to be the worst criminal ever (“911? Are there any patrol cars near such-and-such address? I’m about to rob a liquor store”), or she’s developing a conscience.

One day after Halloween she’d reached her paltry limit of daily candy rations and was refused more. Shortly thereafter she asked me for the scissors so she could cut something (she has shown responsible scissor use since this previous incident) — but told me that I couldn’t know what she was doing. Only her sister could. I found her scissors and was going to let her be — assuming she was making her wonderful mother a wonderful card, but my mother-radar must have kicked in and I went into her room to investigateScissors. She had a small package of 2 Starburst that she was attempting to open, and another one hidden under the pillow she was sitting on. Clearly her level of subterfuge is advancing (she was in another room, the package for her sister was hidden beneath her), however, she still has more learning if her criminal career is to amount to anything. Telling a mother that you are doing something that she ‘can’t know about’ is a red-flag, and, c’mon, at least close the door – or better yet, find a more discrete hiding place.

In her defence, she felt very miserable when her bad deeds were exposed, and she was sharing with her sister (you know, honour among thieves).

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The Tale of the Tiny Tyrant

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I’ve never believed the hype about the temper of the red-head. After all, the red-heads in my life (sister, cousin, nieces) are all sweet and nice. Even our eldest, while not exactly the calmest yogi at the meditation retreat, only has flashes in the pan when it comes to anger. I didn’t even really buy into ‘the terrible twos’. Then our littlest red-head turned two and became the Tiny Tyrant.

Now our household faces the ever present fear that at any moment someone might, inexplicably, awaken the banshee-screaming, body clenched and shaking, uncontrollable rage of the little one. You don’t know what you did, you don’t know how to make it better*, all you can do is stay out of the way, while you woefully think,

I’ve angered it again.

*I’d like to note that I made the observation, that just as my husband gets to see what he is like to live with as we endure the endless energy and sound coming from our eldest, that now I get to see what it is like for him to live with me when I am faced with this kind of ‘what did I do, how do I fix it’ issue. However, if stand-up comedy routines are to be believed, I think this is a common condition of marriage and not particular to me.