Tuesday, June 1, 2010

five going on fifteen…

Can't we go thaaat way?

Nope, we're turning right.


It's the way back to the car.


Why do you have to keep saying huuuhhhh? Enjoy the walk – we're only halfway through. Just because we're walking back to the car doesn't mean you have to get so upset.

At this, she stalked ahead. As far ahead as she could get. 

A few minutes later we caught up to her [she couldn't hold that pace]. Offhandedly, I asked: 

Is something bothering you?

No response. My first silent treatment. 

[Minutes later, she grudgingly accepted my apology for imitating her. She righted her mood, but I'm sure the incident was not forgotten but filed away in her injustices folder.]


Later, she admired her hair in the mirror.

I look so pretty.

We had been practicing her dance-recital bun hairdo earlier in the day. She does have a striking profile.

Eliza came into the bathroom. Her hair was tussled and windblown. Her regular style. Claire tore her eyes from her own reflection and considered her sister.

You don't look pretty, Eliza.

John sent Claire straight to her room. The door slammed. He called her back out into the hallway.

You can close the door, Claire, but you may not slam it.

She stomped away, closing the door firmly but without a sound. She cried for awhile but the storm quickly passed.


It's bedtime.

Goodnight, Claire. I love you. Sleep well.

I love you a million times a million, Mama. I love you more than I can say.

She may be five going on fifteen…but she's still five -- stubborn but sweet, willful but malleable, opinionated but obedient.

For now.