Last month was the drama-filled month of Adriana and I’m happy to report that since her departure from all of our lives, things have settled down quite a bit. Perhaps it’s a placebo type of effect but I truly feel that you’re not so aggressive here at the house anymore. You still boss Miles around but what sibling doesn’t if they can get away with it? It’s true, your Father and I have overheard you telling Miles to do something in an effort to get him in to trouble. Case in point, we’ve heard you in the monitor tell Miles to yell because you know we get upset about that. I’ve even overheard you whisper to Miles to spit at me. Not a great moment for you, Olivia. Yes, you got in quite a bit of trouble for this little over indulgent act of power over your very naive brother. Now of course I have to look back and think about all the times poor Miles got in trouble for being your little puppet. I’m on to you. Well, now that I’ve written examples of your poor behavior, perhaps not that much has changed since Adriana’s departure.
Any who, what I am trying to get at is with Adriana disappearing in to the great beyond, you have made a new friend in the lovely form of a little Asian boy named Edwin. Edwin is worlds different from Adriana. He is the most polite, quiet little boy I have ever met and very well dressed to boot. That child is always rocking a polo with loafers with his hair perfectly in place. One afternoon while picking you up from school, I witnessed you two playing in the playhouse and you were reading a story to him. Edwin sat perfectly still and appeared to be genuinely interested in your story. When you were finished, he gave a boisterous ‘YAY!’ and clapped his hands feverishly – adorable! This is a kid I can get down with. Good job Miss O.
Compared to the torment I’m dealing with your brother, I feel like year 4 is finally a period of calm. It’s true, your listening skills are still half-ass and you’re quite the manipulator but I also feel like I can hold a somewhat decent conversation with you. Most of our conversations usually end up where you’re telling me, “when I was a little girl . . .” Apparently, you’re 4 going on 30. I actually over heard your Father tell you not to talk like a 30 year old this morning. I’m not sure how to interpret that since I am in my thirties and I’m not quite sure why your Dad put such a negative ring to it.
You are still a dreadful eater and your day revolves around dinner. You begin asking what we’re going to have for dinner mid-morning to gauge how your day is going to go. If it’s a dinner you don’t like, which is almost everything, you quickly sulk and whine that you don’t want to eat that. If I know it’s something you genuinely hate, like rice, I won’t tell you until we sit down otherwise I’ll hear nothing but tears leading up to dinner. I know you look forward to Halloween candy for dessert if you eat all of your dinner so perhaps if it’s something you know you hate, you know you can’t make a play for candy that night. Oh, the hardships of being a child. I have to at least be thankful that you at least thank me for making dinner – even if it’s through tears.
Speaking of Halloween, you went as Ladybug Girl this year who, in case you forget in your old age, is a character in a series of books that you love. I would have loved to put you in an embarrassing costume like your brother but unfortunately, you’re old enough now that you have an opinion and a very loud opinion at that. I was so excited about Halloween this year ultimately because of how adorable you and Miles looked and I was so disappointed when ten houses in, you asked if we could go home. I almost grabbed your bag of candy and smacked you upside your head for that comment. I don’t remember my exact words but it went something along the lines of, ‘you better move that little tush of yours and work for your Momma.’ I have two children now that go and get candy for me – I’m not passing this up. Besides, I worked too hard putting together your costumes to not have it seen by the general public. I know the major issue is your fear of the holiday in general – you hate any costumes that involve masks and generally anything that’s not cute, cuddly and a princess. Most of the night, you stayed back and lurked in the shadows as Merrik rang the doorbell. If the person that came to the door looked safe, you would then climb out of what ever bush you were hiding in and proceeded up to the door. Unfortunately, you got mowed over a couple times by a group of older kids in what you deemed to be in scary costumes and you ran down the street screaming for your life. Halloween is most definitely not your holiday.
Thanks to a splendid purchase I made at the flea market last weekend, you are now in the Christmas spirit. I acquired a little ceramic Christmas tree that has all these little colorful lights that light up at night. I had a slightly bigger version as a child that I was obsessed with and I knew as soon as I saw it that you too would be in awe of it. You now ask me every day if ‘we’re going to Christmas?’ It makes you want to bang your head against the wall after the sixth time you hear it in an hour but I also know I can play the ‘be good card’ or Santa won’t come. Ahh, I love this time of year.
Perhaps things haven’t changed that much or your brother is really that bad that nothing you do can pale in comparison. Regardless, I don’t dread a tantrum from you although I do fear you working up your brother and sitting back and watching the shit storm unfold as you pick out the M&Ms in your trail mix. Nobody warned me how crafty four year olds are. I’m sure it doesn’t help that you’re an aspiring lounge singer/thespian/contemporary dancer that turns every ordinary issue in to a full blown dramatic piece. By the way, thank your Aunt Sarah for your Karaoke machine – I swear there are days if I hear one more version of “Little Mermaid” intermixed with heavy breathing in to the microphone, I’m going to lose my shit all over this house. It won’t be positive parenting but hopefully it will scare you in to picking a quieter hobby like reading or needlepoint. Yes, for the love of God, pick up needlepoint.
By the way, I mentioned no tantrums too soon. Right after I wrote this, you threw a doozy of a tantrum at bedtime. Thanks for putting me in to check.