Miss 4 frequently asks me questions I can't answer. My favorite was about two years ago when she fired off the following in rapid order, leaving me no time to answer; "Where do we go when we die? Who is God? Can I have chicken nuggets?" I'll admit it, I let her have the nuggets. But deep down, beyond that place that questioned the nutritional integrity of processed, compressed, chicken product, was this tiny flicker of fear that has been fanned into a roaring blaze over the last two years. And it sounds something like the drums in a survivor tribal council ceremony, over which is the panicky thought of "Holy Crap. They didn't teach me anything about this in school/at the hospital/ in that parenting book!"
We have entered a phase of sassiness I am completely unprepared for. In fact, it seems that Miss 4 asks me questions, for the sole purpose of being able to shake her head with pity and say with a slight amount of juvenile sarcasm, "nuh-uh!" She will argue with me over anything. And honestly, everything is negotiable in her mind. Shoes? Negotiable. Dinner? Negotiable. Underwear? Negotiable. And she has a quick reason for why she wants or NEEDS to go around the imposed restriction etc. Always. I mean instantly at the ready. At the drop of a hat. She doesn't appear to think about it. It's just there. So, either she is already smarter than me, or she lies awake at night scripting these scenarios so that she'll be ready.
She has figured out how to outwit her little sister. It pains me to watch her take her sister's trust and use it to her advantage. I know that kids do it, and I know that olders trick the youngers. I get it. I'm an oldest and I'm sure I was equally evil and conniving. But, the other day I watched Miss 4 eat the middle of an Oreo, stick the cookie sides together and sweetly offer to trade with her sister, who had barely made a dent in her cookie. Trading is what we use to get a beloved toy back, or out of harm's way; a distraction that we taught Miss 4 for good, not evil. I happened to be there that time, and intervened and expressed my displeasure, but I'm not sure my message was received the way I intended it.
And this is the thing that will keep me awake. Am I doing a good enough job with the moral education of my kids? I can forgive the occasional nutritional slip-ups, the chipped fingernail polish I've been meaning to help her take off and haven't gotten to, the occasional snarly, uncombed hair. How do I know that I'm raising them with heart and soul, goodness and intention? Where is the rule-book on that little matter? I don't have the answer...
We have entered a phase of sassiness I am completely unprepared for. In fact, it seems that Miss 4 asks me questions, for the sole purpose of being able to shake her head with pity and say with a slight amount of juvenile sarcasm, "nuh-uh!" She will argue with me over anything. And honestly, everything is negotiable in her mind. Shoes? Negotiable. Dinner? Negotiable. Underwear? Negotiable. And she has a quick reason for why she wants or NEEDS to go around the imposed restriction etc. Always. I mean instantly at the ready. At the drop of a hat. She doesn't appear to think about it. It's just there. So, either she is already smarter than me, or she lies awake at night scripting these scenarios so that she'll be ready.
She has figured out how to outwit her little sister. It pains me to watch her take her sister's trust and use it to her advantage. I know that kids do it, and I know that olders trick the youngers. I get it. I'm an oldest and I'm sure I was equally evil and conniving. But, the other day I watched Miss 4 eat the middle of an Oreo, stick the cookie sides together and sweetly offer to trade with her sister, who had barely made a dent in her cookie. Trading is what we use to get a beloved toy back, or out of harm's way; a distraction that we taught Miss 4 for good, not evil. I happened to be there that time, and intervened and expressed my displeasure, but I'm not sure my message was received the way I intended it.
And this is the thing that will keep me awake. Am I doing a good enough job with the moral education of my kids? I can forgive the occasional nutritional slip-ups, the chipped fingernail polish I've been meaning to help her take off and haven't gotten to, the occasional snarly, uncombed hair. How do I know that I'm raising them with heart and soul, goodness and intention? Where is the rule-book on that little matter? I don't have the answer...
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