Thursday, November 19, 2009

There Was a Little Girl.

There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very good indeed.
But when she was bad she was Horrid.
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

This is the girl of which Longfellow speaks.
And she IS very good indeed,
about 98.4 percent of the time.

Example: I come downstairs one morning at 6:00 a.m. (I know, the horror) to leave for work. 3 and 4 are usually having their breakfast at this time. 3 pops right up out of bed every morning, so excited to start the day. 4? Not at all. 4 has inherited the:

"no way in heck am I or will I ever be until the day I die a morning person" gene

I have it. Number 1 has it. There is nothing wrong with it. Nothing! But back to the story. 4 is having a hard time this day. She is crying, whining, grunting, pointing, screeching, all while trying to get a bowl and choose her cereal.

Yes, it's true. 1, 2, 3 and 4 have all been raised on, and survived very well on, cold cereal for breakfast. Judge all you want.
It's delicious

But ANYWAY. In most cases, really all cases, a 10 year old sister would not react very well to this display of brattiness right out of the chute in the morning. 3 endures it probably 8 out of 10 mornings. (The gene has no cure) So, back to the morning in question. Instead of reacting harshly the way any other sibling would, and actually most parents, 3 gently leans in to 4 and in a calming voice tells her. "It's okay......Use your words."

In all of my life and through all of my years of raising girls,
I don't think I will ever forget this day.
What an Angel.
What a sister.
What an example.

Part Two:
For some reason, this almost perfect little being, goes from Sweet to:

"Oh My Goodness What Did I Do to Upset Her and Is She Going To Hurt Me?"

Horrid faster than Olive the dog's hair stands up when encountered by the pesky rabbits three doors down.
In exactly 2 seconds she is
upset, angry, hurt, belligerent, offended.
I know, I know. It's a girl thing.
But trust me, I have been raising girls for a while now. Twenty years, didn't I tell you? And this one leaves the others so far in the dust they could never catch up.

Example: One day, 3 had an impressively large splinter embedded in her hand.

My 3 and 4 play with their cousins, rough and tumble boys, every day after school.

Who knows where the splinter came from? It was red, swollen and threatening to become infected. Definitely in need of an intervention. Naturally, she wouldn't let us near her. Finally, The Husband and I realized that we were just going to have to hold her down and get it out, for her own good. As I was laying with her (ok on her) trying to keep her still so The Husband could extract the offending splinter, she notched up her scream to a level I'm positive was new to the Universe in general.

The Husband, being fairly new to the girl histronics, stopped for a moment, a little terrified and absolutely certain that he had, in some way, seriously injured 3. I mean, the scream was that noteworthy. 3 proceeded to scream/yell (so loud I KNOW Officer Rain around the corner heard)


Oh yes. So hysterical were we that we almost couldn't finish the job. But we did. Finish the job that is. Poor little thing wouldn't come near us for at least 2 1/2 days.

But honestly, never worry about 3. She will learn to control her emotions and she will grow into the unbelievable woman she is destined to become.

She teaches me every day how to be more kind.

And if there is anything this world needs, it's kindness all around.

That's my girl.

1 comment:

  1. OOOhhhh, my sweetest little angel! I hope your hand is better now. Poor Todd, the sliver removal had to be traumatic! Poor Mom had to listen to her baby cry! Poor Grandma, she wishes she were there to kiss it all better!


Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.