Wednesday, December 7, 2011

The Hysterical Girl

I think my daughter is going through, "The Change."

I know she's only four. And to be clear I'm not talking about puberty. I mean Menopause. She's an emotional wreck at least half the day these past ten days or so. I'm assuming it's menopause just because she's a complete nightmare some days crying, screaming, quickly taking all her clothes off because she's too hot, unable to find the words to explain things and very quick to blame the nearest males around her for all her woes (her brother and I). So far she hasn't suggested renting Shirley Valentine from Netflix - but it's only a matter of time. Last night she actually cried because her fries were, "too brown." Either she's very sensitive or a frightening racist. Take today. She did something surprising this morning so I gave her the shocked raised eyebrow look. At which point she cried because my eyebrows, "aren't supposed to do that right now." She also asked me for some salami - which we didn't have - so she hid under a blanket and bawled like a wounded bear.

Then a little later I showed her a treat email from Santa Claus. It's that cool Portable North Pole website that lets you edit the details to be specific about a particular person. I opted for Santa to tell her she was a good mostly and that she should listen to her parents. Santa told her how old she was and remarked on her going to school. He even complimented a photograph of her "putting on a show" - which is something she genuinely does every day. Santa then told her he was asking his elves to check to see whether she was on the Nice List or not. After a tense twenty seconds of video they announced that she was. I expected her to smile and be excited. Instead she cried with frustrated anguished relief. I literally had to stop the video and try and comfort her. She was nearly hysterical. Thank God I hadn't gone my wife's route and had Santa tell her she was a naughty girl and needed to try a little harder. My wife thought this might be motivational (my wife is a manager you see). She may have climbed on the roof and threatened to jump if I'd done that.

After calming her down somewhat I asked her what was wrong and the very first thing she screamed was that a girl in school told her that her hair wasn't nice. Seriously? Four year old kids can be total dicks as well? Then she said the girl told her the only nice hair is a pony tail and that clearly her parents don't know how to do one because she never has one. I calmly asked who it was and she revealed it to be the class nuisance. Good heavens this kid is a pain in the arse. They used to have a Timeout spot in the room but the teacher evenly openly jokes that it has been renamed after this kid. So I told my daughter that most people always remark that her hair is amazing and that this other girl isn't being very nice and not to take any notice - but if she keeps it up let the teacher know. I obviously wanted to tell my daughter to call the other girl, "The School Bike" but I think it's ab it early to be feeding her comebacks degrading her classmates honor. That's for First grade.

During the making of the Santa video my wife and I tussled with what to put down as the special gift Santa knew my daughter wanted. She hasn't really said she wants anything. My wife wants to get her a camera. She loves doing the photo stuff for this - and then she (my wife and my daughter) won't feel nervous about her using my camera. I suggested craft stuff. Because I've already bought it, it's something I don't mind her knowing she's going to get as it's a vague thing and she loves doing crafts. Add Santa was going to tell her openly what she was after - so she'd pretty much know what she was getting if my wife got a camera three weeks early. In the end I stuck down craft stuff. So I waited while my daughter watched the video for the part when Santa says/sort of asks out loud if she remembers what she had asked for. He gives a coy wink and a strange wrapped shape appears with the word, 'Crafts" written under it." At which point my daughter yelled, "A bean bag chair!!!" Wait what? Since when? Did I know that already? It sounds vaguely familiar. If I wrote it on here (I'll check at some point) then I knew obviously. But I didn't know it inside.

Consequently I spent a large portion of this afternoon trawling about the place looking for a bean bag chair. Nowt. Which is annoying. She also has only mentioned a talking reindeer. The place that was no longer has any. They have talking chickens. Which is about as festive as a goat. And nobody has heard of a Christmas goat. Except maybe in Greece or somewhere like that.

Which is probably where the Shirley Valentine nonsense comes in.

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