Daddy: "Whatcha doing, Pick?"
Isobel: "Cutting paper."
Daddy: "Are you supposed to be using scissors by yourself?"
Isobel: "Mommy said I could if I was very careful."
Daddy: "What scissors are you using?"
Isobel: "The ones with the round end. I was going to use the ones with the pointed end but I might poke myself with the and that would hurt like hell."
Izzy is a cry-baby. Well, that's what she would have been called around my house if she grew up when I did. Around here we are a little less severe but the sentiment is the same. She gets upset and cries over just about anything. From skinned knees to clean up your mess, to tired and sleepy and come to supper. All of these have generated tears at one point or another.
Tough tears seem to be what she is most comfortable with, they are not her sole means of emotional response. She can go from smiling and laughing to full on rage in the blink of an eye. From there she can slip into the doldrums and back to smiling and happy and come completely full circle back to a vicious weeping jag.
"You're going to use all the tears you have for your whole life." Mrs. Narrator will often say to her. "What are you going to do when you have no more tears left?" Sure it gets to be a bit much but it also gets me to thinking and it dawned on me that my five year old is dealing with full grown emotions.
You don't get an instruction manual with them and nobody can prepare you for when they kick in. Obviously, they don't grow with you either, you get the full on grown up versions all at once.
I use this as an example, the kind of moment of clarity that I had with all of this. We were sitting watching T.V when she reached over to hug me. That in and of itself was a little odd but it was the way she delivered the hug. Full on bear hug around my neck. So tight it began to constrict my breathing.
I could see the look on her face and, surprise surprise, it wasn't a look of pure evil and I couldn't hear any of the creepy music from the Omen. No, it was a look of love. Pure unabashed love. She told me as much. "I love you Daddy", she said. "I just love you so much." I could feel her tightening the hug. I had to say something.
"I love you too honey but you're choking me."
"Sorry Daddy, I'm just reeeaaallly happy."
And that's when it hit me.
Whatever switch we have in our heads that says 'ooh, that hug is going over board' or 'I need to dial that back a little' is what grows with us but we are left with the dilemma of trying to deal with full grown emotions in a brain that is still in it's basic stages.
I bet things flow through her head like this: Sleep; wake up; eat; breathe; play; poop; eat again; breathe more; eat more; maybe sleep more or maybe just something to eat; HOLY SHIT DO I EVER LOVE THIS CAT! eat more; poop again; still breathing must keep breathing; I WILL KILL THAT GOD-DAMNED CAT IF IT DOESN'T SHUT IT"S GOD-DAMNED PIE HOLE.
For a kid that tends to like things on full throttle to begin with, it must be a daunting thing to take a turn on the mood swings every time you get a glimmer of a feeling
. Good or bad.In a perfect world, we would all go to the emotional used car lot. Salesmen would walk right up to us and say things like: "I can tell you're someone who knows love when they see it so I'm not eve going to try and sell you love today...but I have this ambivalence that I just got back from a three year lease that ran out and if you like it I'll throw in a free sense of irony. That's completely free of charge... Wait, don't answer now. Take er for a test drive and let me know what you feel after some time behind the wheel."
This is not however, a perfect world and until it is I guess she'll just have to go through it like the rest of us. We'll try not to let her struggle too much.
There is a project going on a Izzy's school which involves Franklin (The turtle from the stories and T.V. shows.) and all the children in Izzy's kindergarten class. The idea being that every child take home the stuffed Franklin doll and a note book and write about what Franklin did while he was with you.
It's a neat idea with the same sentiment as getting to bring home the class pet, like we did when I was in kindergarten but without the potential for disaster and heartache on an epic scale hanging over you. Incidentally, the kindergarten guinea pig died while in the care of another student. Long before it was my turn...if any of you were wondering...and I know you were.
Anyway Izzy decided that her and Franklin would watch a movie together and I was proud of her picking an activity that was easy enough to report and not to out there to make the other children think she was an odd ball. Ironically the only movie Franklin would watch, according to Izzy, was one of his own...a little vain but what do I know about stuffed turtle egos.
The sat down to watch the movie and Izzy made sure he was comfortable and then she got up to go to the bathroom...and it all went bad from there.
"Franklin, just stay there and watch the movie, I have to go to the bathroom." she said.
Now I wasn't looking at the turtle the whole time and couldn't say for sure but I didn't see him move.
"I told you not to move and to just watch the movie." she said, the venom rising in her voice. "Now I will be right back. Don't you move."
She disappeared for a moment and then reappeared, her voice on the ragged edge as she screamed at him.
"Dammit Franklin, I told you to watch that movie!" she reached over to pick him up and drilled him across the room. He landed on his face and she ran to pick him up.
"Oh Franklin," she said. "I am sorry. Let's forget about it and watch the movie."
She asked me later on to help her write about her adventures with Franklin but was unsure how to start.
"How about we just write Franklin and I watched a movie and then he had a nap."
"I love it." she said...she'll make a great mother one day. I'm sure of it.
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