Poor John

When I was pregnant with both girls, John and I decided against finding out the sex of the baby beforehand. Since the number of pleasant surprises significantly decreases with age, and either outcome would have made us happy, we decided to relish in our nine month mystery. Although I have an uncanny sense for determining what other women are carrying, I had no gut feeling about my own children. People would ask if I had "the dream." The only dream that I recall of that ilk was during my pregnancy with Alice. In my dream, I had just delivered the baby. The doctor presented me with a swaddled child and announced, "Congratulations. It's a …" However, I never knew what the doctor said because in my dream I was exhausted from labor and fell asleep. John, however, did not draw the blank that I did in reality or dreamland. Every time John was asked, he replied, "a girl." If someone pressed him for his rationale, he would explain it was God's way of paying him back for the sins of his youth. I logically pointed out that if that was indeed true the world's population would be composed entirely of women with a few isolated males here and there. Still, John persisted in his way of thinking.


This came back to me while I was at the park with the girls last week. Angela was on the swing and Alice was off playing with a newly made friend. Angela loves the swing. Her whole body was shaking with delight as she went back and forth giggling the entire time. Her happiness attracted two young boys who I pegged to be in sixth or seventh grade. As I pushed, they started asking me about my daughter- her age and things of that nature. They then started doing silly things to make her laugh. They loved her deep whole body laughs and she loved making silly faces and batting her eyes at them. The thing that really amazed me about the whole interaction was when a few of the boys' friends called to them from the basketball court and asked them to come and play. These young boys actually declined the invitation in order to spend more time with Angela. Holy crap! The kid is not even one and older boys are besotted. John must have really been a bad boy.

Tail of Woe

Alice is a great kid. More often than not, she amazes me with her thoughtfulness, intelligence and humor. And then she pulls a "typical toddler" move. Lately, she has been taking the toy(s) Angela is playing with right from her hands. Now, I totally understand that sharing is a really hard concept to learn. I think we all know adults who have not mastered the skill. Regardless, my home looks like a toy factory threw up in it. There is no end to playthings littering the floor, tables, bins, and dark shadowy corners protected by killer dust bunnies. I simply don't fully understand why she HAS to play with that particular toy at that exact moment. Typically, Alice and Angela play really well (actually surprisingly well) together. Alice enjoys being with her sister and making her laugh so I am totally at a loss as to why she continually does something to make Angela cry.


I have done the whole "gentle explanation in terms she can understand" deal. I might as well have tried teaching her algebra. She now loses her television privileges for a period of time. That has helped curtail it a great deal but still the behavior persists. The whole thing has been driving me nuts. I told Angela that when she is big enough to defend her turf Mommy will deliberately turn a blind eye a time or two so she can have some payback. I have warned Alice of this but right now she does not fear her little sister.


This last Sunday, the whole situation took a humorous turn. I was cleaning up from dinner and enjoying a moment of peaceful serenity. John was with the two little ones in the living room playing. I was basking in some solo time and actually starting and finishing a task (gasp). A cry from Angela, a scolding from John and a full blown tantrum from Alice threw all that serenity out the window. Alice ran to the kitchen to tell me her tale of woe. Needless to say, she got no compassion from me and instead got an additional reprimand. I returned to my cleaning fuming all the while. As I finished the last pot, I realized Alice was under the table but still carrying on a conversation. Curiously, I peered under the table to find Alice pouring out all her sorrow to a very patient pug who just sat there and listened. Alice hysterically related to the dog, "I'm so angry. I'm so tired. I'm so cranky and I'm so hungry again." I silently left the room to laugh and tell John what was going on in the kitchen. A few minutes later I called to Alice and once she quieted down we talked about why she was scolded. Puggie hopped between the two of us and proceeded to lick Alice's tears. Once all was settled, Alice returned to play in the living room and I called the pug into the kitchen. I went to the treat closet and took out two. After listening to Alice's tale of woe, she surely deserved a double.