Tuesday, December 13, 2011

The Secret Dancer

"I'm going to drink pee when I'm older out of a can like Grandma."

Ewww. That's not a good image. She does of course mean beer. But still - the fact that she thinks Grandma drinks piss is not a good thing. She said that during dinner when I was talking about different drinks people have with food. I mentioned wines and beers, and then said I don't drink those anymore. She helpfully pointed out that Grandma loves her can of piss of an evening. Not the most pleasant mistake.

My daughter is a psycho dancer. I don't even mean she's dangerous to be near when she's dancing (which she is). That alone is frightening. The fact that she actively hits herself while she's dancing is scary. But rather I mean that she just wont stop. I'm not one to squash a passion like that but she doesn't know when to cool it. Which is a real problem come 5pm each day. This - as I've mentioned in the past - is some sort of odd unannounced moment each day when the kids go bonkers. It's something science cannot explain. Some nefarious primal thing - like how some animals feel earthquakes or can smell cancer. It's at this point of the day lately that her dancing becomes even more spastic and violent. Instead of just bouncing around the one room she'll insist on running fast between rooms - usually involving the kitchen - and "skating" with her socks. The skating thing is insanely annoying because the two ends of her kitchen-rink is sharply ended by the corner of the kitchen table and the corner of the kitchen cabinets. She inevitably ends up spearing herself.

This is dangerous on it's own, but she also insist on doing it into her brother. As in she shoves him along until she just can't control herself anymore and will just full-on slam-dance into him. He thinks this is hilarious at 3pm. At 4pm it's still somewhat funny. At 5.15pm it makes him cry. Anytime after 5.30pm and he will end up hurt by it. He's just too tired to protect himself then.

Which brings us to today. At 4pm he was already sick of it. She'd started skating early and shoving him around. I was making soup so asked her to please please please stop doing it for once. Five minutes later I was stirring tomatoes and stock around and realized there was no sound in the living room. It was at this point that I learned something disturbing. My daughter had officially bothered her brother into escaping upstairs, had locked him in my bedroom and was then dancing at him secretly without my knowledge. I heard his muffled panicked screams and rescued him. I then had that bizarre conversation with her where I told her - a la the 1950s - that she had to cease the devil-dancing immediately. In the end she kept it up so persistently that I made her sit at the table until the soup was done. And by made her I mean gave her chocolate to sit still.

Her general carelessness is endemic now anyway. You may recall me mentioning her naively sprinting around on the wet grass waiting for school last week. That was two seconds after I had told her not to. Yesterday she ran outside ready for school and slid in the muddy gravel. She got her pants - freshly put on 10 seconds earlier - grazed with mud and even managed to slightly graze her knee. She later told her mother I had, "counted too quickly" and caused her to fall. I hadn't done anything obviously. Which takes us to today. She was wearing some sort of Hippy LSD pants around the house this morning so I put her in some jeans right before we headed outside. At which point she literally ran out the door buckled her foot and got a good one foot long scrape of mud up one of her legs and all up her elbow. So that's three days straight she's had her primarily chosen school clothes on for a total of less than 30 seconds all together. Tomorrow I'm tying her legs together and carrying her outside.

She - for her sins - has tried to batter an excuse at me for the last few weeks that the moment I hear it I want to scream at full volume. She'll twat her brother with something. Or she'll just drop food carelessly. Anything at all. Her response is, "oh - it was an accident." No it fucking well wasn't. She seems to think that the accident excuse really does allow her to engage in almost any behavior without consequence. This has replaced, "oh I forgot" that she tried for a week or two. Yes - she forgot not to push her brother over and steal his toy.

Time for an end-of-day tea. Today was one of those days where this cup of tea will soothe and taste fantastic.

And to think - I could be chugging a can of piss instead.

1 comment:

  1. You don't want to hear this but at 19 and 16 my two can break/hit/hurt something or someone and still come out with the words 'I didn't mean to'. Like that makes it ok apparently. Aggggghhhhhhh.

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