At my brother’s house, ’round the pool.
The nephews and men are playing water polo on one end. The nieces — Piper and cousin Banshee — are splashing around in the other. Piper comes close to the edge, so Sister and Banshee’s mom say, “Piper, show us your swimming.” She does so. “Yay!” they say. “That looks great! Good job!” etc.
Banshee, now 4, narrows her eyes. “Hmmph,” says she.
Sister and Banshee’s mom quickly say, “Banshee, show us your swimming now.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Oh, come on. Show us!”
“No. I don’t want to and I don’t think I will ever want to!”
(Okaay. Uhmm, Banshee …. precious …. you must learn to calm down …. and, well, not be so …. how shall I say? …. intransigent. Tee Tee loves you. She wants everyone else to be able to love you, too, ‘kay?)
Well-behaved women seldom make history.
That’s what I keep telling myself as I continue to wonder what the hell I was thinking when I thought motherhood would be fun.
Actually, Banshee’s turn of phrase is kind of endearing. It’s like she was channeling Jane Austen.
I shan’t show you my swimming, Mother!
At least they’re not claiming she’s an “Indigo Child”.
Sorry, interrupted.
I’ve gotten the impression that Banshee is one of those very, very bright kids for whom small childhood is not pleasant b/c their mental abilities so far outrun everything else in their life.
She may calm down when it all meshes better.
NF — Hahahaha! You’re right. Very Elizabeth Bennet, like “You are the last person in the world I could ever be prevailed upon to show my swimming!”
Sal — Well, let’s just say that right now, her intellectual capacity is much more developed than her emotional/empathic capacity.
“Why are you looking at her–look at ME! What? Oh, man, now everybody’s LOOKING at me!”
I think I was the same way (and still am to some extent). If you figure out how to handle Banshee, please let me know so I can write it down for future reference. My parents have been wishing a kid like me, on me, for a long time, I think.