I think we just discovered why Miss4 takes her swimming lessons so seriously.
The wail from the other end of the house was so grating my nerves could be used to top a pizza. Kids niggling each other in the mornings before they’re dressed and ready for the school run is guaranteed to get my attention.
I slammed down the butter knife next to a half-made sandwich for the kids lunches and, pausing only to drain my coffee cup, marched into the lounge room to find out what was going on.
Tracey was just coming out of the girls’ bedroom. She placed a hand on my chest and whispered, “It’s okay.”
The whale song continued.
“You sure?” I asked, staring over her shoulder towards the bedroom.
“I’ll tell you about it in the kitchen,” said Tracey quietly. “She needs a moment.”
I calmed down to Defcon 5. I think it was her hand touching me. Maybe that’s what Israel and Palestine, or North and South Korea, need. More touchy feely time together.
Alone in the kitchen, Tracey explained what the moanful screaming was about.
“I had to tell her she can’t be a mermaid,” said my wife.
“Way to kill her dreams,” I said in my best ‘what kind of a parent are you?‘.
“What was I thinking?” muttered Tracey, and for a second I thought she thought I was serious. “I so should have let you walk in there.”
I know how pissed off our Miss4 was a couple of weeks ago when we dropped the bombshell about unicorns and, shortly after this, dragons (she was keen on getting herself a Windshear), so I am really glad my wife beat me into that room. We don’t do this to be killjoys, but when your kid is chucking a tantrum and demanding a real flying horse, you sometimes don’t have a choice.
And I know how Miss4 feels. When I was a kid I wanted a Battle Cat, and a Mach5. I’d also open my mouth underwater and pretend to breath like The Man From Atlantis. And, despite the strings attached to the job, I really badly wanted to be a member of the Thunderbirds. Preferably Thunderbird 2.
Based on Miss4’s explosive reactions to learning this magical world isn’t quite as magical as ABC2 and the like make out, I am not looking forward to one day having the Santa talk.
Meanwhile, it’ll be interesting to see if she’s as mad keen for swimming next week, or still just mad.
Raising a family on little more than laughs
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