Friday, July 11, 2014

Irrational Demands

Since we left St. Louis, Ellie has decided that she is going to be two in nature, not just in name.  This has led to an increased insistence on what she wants, and doing it by herself, and stomping her feet when someone has the temerity to suggest that perhaps we might do it a different way.

She is, in her mind, in the driver's seat.

Or at least the navigator's seat.  We went out to hike on a short loop at Lake Crescent yesterday, and she discovered that there was a map.  She proceeded to tell us all the places that she could go, and how we were going to go and pet the deer that was pictured on the map. Attempts to explain how the map actually worked, and show her where we were and how the path was pictured were met with "No, I do it myself, okay?" and a charming closed-eyed grin.

Her refusal to eat anything is also becoming more and more two-ish.  Yesterday she grumped because she didn't get the right yogurt in the right receptacle with the right utensil at the moment that she wanted it.  

Actually, she's been doing that for years.  Well, year.  But now she does it with an arms-folded humphing noise, which makes it more dramatic.

Tonight, for those of you keeping score at home, was a doozy.  First, she demanded that I let her take this book with her to bed, where she proceeded to read it aloud for fifteen minutes at the top of her lungs.  Requests for her to pipe down a bit were met with the comment "But I'm just reading my book, Mommy.  It's a good book."

I personally wouldn't have started with Anne of Windy Poplars, but to each her own.

After she had tired of narrating the adventures of the girl on the cover, she began demanding The Wind in the Willows.  But she demanded that instead of reading it from my phone, which I can do in the dark, I read it from a paperback (which has no pictures, so it's not like it is ANY DIFFERENT AT ALL from my phone).

It was dark, so I declined.

She screamed.  Loudly.  Sadly.  Punctuated by ostentatious sniffling.

I went to give her a hug, and Margaret said wisely "I think that she misses her Daddy, and her feelings are all tangled up," which was an amount of psychological insight I wouldn't have expected of her.  Ellie help the book out to me sadly and said "Pwease wead this book?"

So I went and lay down on the other bed, and read my phone.  Tucked inside the cover of the paperback.  I think she suspected something, but she let it go.

No comments:

Post a Comment