Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Why We Keep Her Around

Quick note: while I was out last night happily eating barbecue (second time in two weeks!) the comment spammers returned, and so I have reinstituted the captchas. Sorry.

So, last night we were playing Carcassonne. This is a game that all three of us love, but MG said she didn't want to play this time, she'd just sit on the couch and knit. (My mom just taught her to knit and she's working on it but I think is finding it hard going, and neither RW nor I have the expertise to help her.)

Doesn't that sound cozy? Well. Not so much.

Because she proceeded to perch herself on the couch and KIBITZ in the most irritating way possible. I should move here. The Renaissance Woman should move there. I SHOULDN'T make that move because it was MEAN to RW. And in between she would start up conversations, mostly with RW, that were totally distracting me while I was trying to think about my move. It's not like I want total silence, but...isn't there something between total silence and a big conversation-fest while two of the three people in the room are playing a game of strategy?

Very soon she had slid off the couch altogether, and was just sitting on the floor next to us, watching. But not playing. And CLICKING with her mouth, into the silence while we contemplated our moves.

Click...click...click...

"Is this driving you crazy, Mommy?" (Cheerfully, amiably.)

I allowed as how it was, but that I'd been trying not to say anything about it until I just couldn't stand it any more.

"Well, tell me when you can't stand it any more, okay?"

Click...click...click...

I cracked and admitted I couldn't stand it any more.

"Okay!" the clicking stopped, but was replaced by tapping on the floor.

Tap...tap...tap...

Then she volunteered to move our markers for us after each move. Which would've been fine, except that she'd pick up a marker and promptly forget what number it had been on, and how many points forward she was supposed to move it, so that it quickly became unclear who had how many points.

By then, she was getting pretty physically wild, her feet nudging at the game pieces so that we couldn't tell where our cities were supposed to be or whose markers were on which city.

Finally, I snapped at her, and she snapped at me, and RW snapped at both of us to COOL DOWN ALREADY.

After which MG flounced out of the room, announcing, "I'm LEAVING, Mommy. Are you HAPPY?!?"

Truth is, I was. Though it's also true that the game just wasn't as much fun without MG there. Or without the cheerful, interested, non-obnoxious version of MG who COULD have been there, and who was, sometimes, intermittently with the Button-Pushing Express.

On the other hand: this morning, her hair was getting in the oatmeal again, so I volunteered to get her a barette. When she saw the green flowered plastic one, she said, "Oh! I thought it might look like this! Except I was expecting you would bring the blue one with the teddy bear playing a fiddle on the roof."

A teddy bear? On the roof? She had a barette with a teddy bear on a roof? There was once a cat with a fiddle, but a bear?

"Yes!" she nodded. "There was! A teddy bear on the roof."

And she burst into song, to something like the tune of "Knees Up Mother Brown": "Teddy bear on the roof! Teddy bear on the roof! Teddy bear, teddy bear, teddy bear, teddy bear, Teddy bear on the roof!"

And she sidled off to feed her fish and get dressed, a happy chorus of "Teddy bear on the roof!" wafting down the hall to us as she went.

It's a good thing she's entertaining, is all I can say.

On the other hand: if it's like this when she's eight, how on earth are we going to make it through adolescence?

6 Comments:

Anonymous MonkeyPants said...

She's a funny little girl. I bet adolescence won't be so bad. Or maybe you'll just be inured to her quirks by then?

12:34 PM  
Blogger Phantom Scribbler said...

Though it's also true that the game just wasn't as much fun without MG there. Or without the cheerful, interested, non-obnoxious version of MG who COULD have been there, and who was, sometimes, intermittently with the Button-Pushing Express.

This EXACTLY sums up my feelings about both my children. Please god, they spend less time on the Button-Pushing Express as they get older!

1:58 PM  
Anonymous Susanna said...

Is it ok if I post your link on my blog?

10:09 PM  
Blogger elswhere said...

Susanna-- sure!

10:26 PM  
Blogger susan said...

Probably the same way you make it through now: marveling at her awesomeness and wondering at her ability to button-push. And taking comfort in the fact that your friends are doing the exact.same.thing.

7:45 AM  
Blogger Arwen said...

Amen and amen.

11:54 PM  

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