Highly opinionated, outspoken. Flounces around like a prima donna demanding, dramatic, difficult.
I blame the parents myself.
First thing in the morning, in the middle of the night. “I want milk…. I want MILK….. I want milk in my cow cup. Get me MILK!”
She has Angela tortured.
I am talking about my three year old daughter. Scampering past on her way to the loo squawking “I’m gonna pee myself”.
When she’s been bold, a look from me sees the freckled-nose wrinkle, the furrow-brow, the inevitable tears and the wailing lament “Daddy’s not being nice to me.”
Angela carried her about for the first year of her life in one of them trendy baby holder jobs. She was like a baby kangaroo peeping out, all cuteness and bright blue eyes. Now, you would think she spent the time pricking her with thorns. Until she decides her mammy is her friend that is, then all’s smiles. Manipulative minx that she is.
She’s now Shanghai-ed the children across the road as her friends, I suspect they had no choice in the matter. Her dashing over home when she wants to do a pee or perhaps take a minute to acknowledge us as her parents. My neighbour looked bemused at this little dervish invading his house when I spoke to him about her visits.
Her little idiosyncracies. From her little Polish friend Anna she now says ‘dziekuje’ instead of thank you. To be fair that’s more than the others manage in English.
And today she’s off to Pre school for her taster session. But nothing’s that simple. No.
She met the teacher the other day down the street. Teacher being a civil woman tried to say hello, getting to know the child you see, in readiness for next year.
But it doesn’t work that way. Gasket-blowing:
“I don’t LIKE that teacher.”
“Tell her to go away”
And hiding behind Joanna:
“Has she gone yet?”
Thinking it would pass I mistakenly asked her about school. Oh dear. A mistake.
“I DON”T WANT a teacher with yellow hair.”
“I want a different teacher.”
Quietly. . .
“I want my godmother to be my teacher.”
Could be good clean fun today. I’m looking forward to the craic.
And what about Gráinne the fairy godmother? She has two years yet before she has the particular pleasure of taking a bow in that class. I’m thinking there will be a few interesting days before that comes to pass.
Such a little flower. Dziekuje Treasa.