My four year old daughter is the world’s best manipulator. I don’t remember ever acting like her and, from what my parents say, I really was a good kid so I know this isn’t some kind of parent/karma deal.
I’m not saying she is incapable of being good. Some of her more positive activities include standard adorable child behaviors. For instance, she cuddles with me at least twice a day and picks me flowers. She draws pictures of her and mommy smiling and holding hands under a rainbow. She kisses me goodbye and usually squeals with joy when I pick her up from school. She sprinkles the day with spoken love darts like “I love you so much, mommy.” She even makes up cute little songs and, when she finishes, she’ll ask, “Do you like that song, mommy?” How can I not love it when my heart has just melted away in my chest?
One of her funny little quirks is what I like to call the “baby migration.” This is when she innocuously brings a baby doll from her room to watch television with her. If you turn your back for two seconds, the baby situation gets out of hand and, before you know it, there is a pile of baby dolls staring at you with dozens of creepy, lifeless eyes. Many a tear has been shed by our little girl when the time comes to corral the babies back to her room.
My husband and I are both hopelessly wrapped around her little finger which is why we act so surprised every time she turns on us.
Because her screaming is so hurtful to our ears, we frequently have to banish her to her bedroom and close the door. We do this for our own sake, but it is no easy task. She has mastered the art of passive resistance with a move we have termed the “limp baby” maneuver. The limpness itself is one challenge, but she is also somehow able to become 20 pounds heavier and, when you try to pick her up, she can dislocate her arms to become something akin to a greased hot dog.
When that tactic doesn’t work and we are able to awkwardly lift her, she desperately changes gears to “cat-in-a-bathtub,” where she grabs onto anything within her reach which usually ends up being a doorway. Her finger-clinging powers are comparable to those of Spider Man and would be quite impressive if it weren’t so annoyingly effective.
Keep in mind that her sonic siren scream is engaged the entire time which can make a perfectly sane person, such as myself, very confused and disoriented.
Once she is safely in her room with the door closed, she kicks things up a notch and goes into “Linda Blair” mode. I’m convinced the neighbors believe I beat her, but in reality, the child is all alone in her dispersion of pure hellfire and brimstone.
This past Sunday at church, she once again displayed her recalcitrance by refusing to sing with her peers. She stood with arms crossed while our son tried to engage her in the song’s directions which included shaking hands, patting the back, and giving a hug. She kept a bead on me the entire time all because she wanted to sit on my lap, but I made her go with the kids instead. That child can execute a mean stink-eye at will.
My hope is that her tenacity will take her far in life. She’d make a great drill sergeant if the military is up for the challenge. Until then, our daughter, the puppet master, will practice and hone her techniques on those who love her most.
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