She wakes early and readies herself for the day. She dresses and brushes her teeth, and no longer feels the need to vocalize her pride in that ability. “I brushed my teeth all by myself!” is so yesterday.
But oh! Oh how irate she becomes when I tell her that I still need assist. It is after all my parental dental duty. Her eyes are ablaze as she opens wide.
She can turn my house upside down within an hour, toys strewn everywhere to the extent that you cannot walk in the playroom without yelping from the pain in the arch of your foot; you are not even sure which tiny object you just trampled.
Well, she has help. There is a coconspirator who is all too willing to follow her lead, but that only applies to the mess making. She becomes so frustrated when her younger brother does little to assist her in clean up efforts, and as a result will often host a sit in. No television until the house is clean? That’s fine. She didn’t want to watch television anyway.
Still, when I awaken the next morning and stumble towards my percolator, I will spy a wealth of carpet; every toy has been hurried to a somewhat proper place. She stands behind me with a sly grin, waiting for praise; wanting to know that she has made me happy. And of course ask if she can watch Word World.
Speaking of words, she’s reading. I don’t even know how it happened, when it really happened, but she’s reading. Our nightly regiment has changed. I am no longer reading to her from the books that she has plucked from her crowded shelves. She is now reading to me. And not just reading, but understanding what she’s reading and asking questions. All of the sudden one day it just clicked. The ability to sound out and blend and makes words is there. She is reading new words every day, and likes to correct Dr Seuss on his grammar. We have had a few discussions about artistic license.
I can no longer spell when I do not want her to know what I am talking about.
Tony: Did you remember the g-o-g-g-l-e-s?
Sofia: Why are you talking about my goggles?
It is a sweet, sweet pain in my ass.
So many changes; my little girl is getting older. We had it rough there for a while. She is still as stubborn and defiant as hell when she doesn’t get her way, yet in other ways life together has gotten easier. Our everyday-life has gotten better.
Maybe she doesn’t feel like fighting as much. Maybe she’s more capable of expressing her feelings and using her words. Maybe together we are actually improving with negotiation and compromise. Maybe she’s just getting older. The terrible twos, the horrible threes, the no end in sight fours, they are all melting away.
I guess it is fair to say that I am fond of the fabulous fives!
Yes, I like this place.