Norah Goes Back to School

It really does suck being the second child. And it kind of sucks being the parent of a second child, too. Having one child is pretty easy. That kid isn't going to know what options are available unless exposed to them, which means the kid can't whine and complain about not being able to do those things all day every day.

Staying in our boring home with nobody but me as entertainment, for Gabe, just WAS. There weren't really any other options as far as he knew. He didn't know there were channels other than the pre-K ones we watched while he was up. He didn't know there were schools where he could be around and play with dozens of other kids his own age. Moreover, he didn't have an older sibling coming up with things to do all day to entertain him. Again, he just had boring old me, so he got pretty good at coming up with his own entertainment and thinking of things to have me set up for him to do.

But Norah knows what's going on out there in the world now thanks to Gabe's participation. In some ways, it's probably forcing her to grow up a little faster than is entirely fair. She is hearing more chapter books and watching more Ninjago or Star Wars than Gabe would have ever been exposed to at three. She sees Gabe going off for most of the day while she is stuck at home with me and then gets to hear about all the fun things he's doing all day. In other words, she THINKS she's a five year old like Gabe and is VERY unhappy that she is still only three and can't do all the same things he gets to.

She's also not great at coming up with things to do all day. She just kind of putters around, acting bored. Though, she's going to have to start getting better at that soon because we're about 90% sure that we're going to cancel cable. And when she doesn't have the TV to entertain her, she's going to have to start coming up with things on her own (and, you know, me too I suppose).

But all of this has, I think, propelled us into what is, to my ears anyway, the most annoying phase yet, the "I want!" phase. Over the last week I have had to ban the use of it in the house because it instantly turns my brain red. If she utters it, she gets to spend a few minutes up in her bed as punishment. This seems extreme to me as I type it up, but it, honestly, is the nicest thing I can think of whenever she says it. And she says it A LOT. Any time we say "no." Any time she has an inkling for anything. Any time she has a thought, really. "I want! I want!" Oy. I'm sure Gabe went through a similar stage, but I don't remember being so frustrated and irritated all of the time like I am with this phase of hers. Maybe it's the tone of voice that she uses. It's both unsympathetically, autocratically demanding and gratingly whiny all at the same time. Like Hitler after being hit in the face by a dodge ball. I feel confident that I would also be infinitely annoyed by that Hitler, too.

Anyway, because she simply MUST be out doing stuff now that she knows the outside world exists, we've got her signed up for a few extra-curricular activities besides preschool. She gets to do a fairy dance camp that lasts the whole fall, which, I expect, will keep her happy and distracted for the sum total time that she is actually at the dance camp. But preschool is the big one, and it finally started again last week. These first two weeks are just one morning, so we're not fully into the swing of things (and I really think that, once Gabe goes to full days, she'll start to lighten up some because, I swear, 90% of her bad attitude is directed and making his life miserable), but we will be soon.

She's so cute. It's so hard to believe that such a sweet looking little girl could be such a pure force of evil right now.

It just breaks my heart to see the seething malevolence boiling just below the surface here. Her eyes are a little closed here, so you can't see that her eyeballs are rolled all the way back into her head.

On the way to school. Here you can see the wheels turning. She's thinking, "I wonder how I can break Daddy's will to live when I get home from school." Answer: with extreme prejudice.

Walking the path to school. There are bible verses on the red stones in the middle of the path. They sizzle when she steps on them.

See that blank one? There was a bible verse on there. When she stepped on it, the words actually flew off, squealing like trodden mice. They swirled miserably for a few seconds then dissolved into the ether.

The stairway down to her classroom. Did I mention that her backpack is filled with thumb screws and iron maidens and stuff? It totally is.

Norah at the table, plotting how she will finally cave in my skull. Weapon of choice: rolling pin. I do appreciate the Vaudevillian feel of that kind of end. It's like she's a character in The Lockhorns comic strip.

Obviously I kid here. I feel like I need to mention that from time to time--especially since I still believe that, of my two kids, only Norah MIGHT have the gumption to actually go back and read any of this nonsense later in life. I love my daughter and would take a rolling pin for her. She's just not making it easy right now, and I, too, like to whine.