When she was a baby I called her sharp eyes and furrowed brow "storm clouds."
Sometimes I could circumvent the disaster, often times I just had to wait it out.
Even now that she's the grand old age of four the storm fronts roll across her face with rapid advance and ferocious intensity. And usually by the time all hell's broken loose there's little for me to do but hold my breath and hope to contain my own blustery rage.
I. WANT. A. POPSICLE!
YOU. NEVER. EVER. GIVE. ME. ANYTHING!
I. DON'T. WANT. TO ....
Mostly I think she is tired. She doesn't go to bed on time. She's not getting enough sleep. Who could expect a child to have the patience of a saint when their schedule is as hectic as hers?
And that's what I tell people when her ominous skies erupts into hurricane force winds: "She's exausted."
But as every parent must do, I wonder: Is she really tired or is she just a ... the word that must be whispered ... brat?
They say you have to choose your battles, but which are worth fighting?
Is this normal?
Do I give in to her whims to often?
Should I care more about all these little things that matter to her?
When I'm thinking, 'What's one extra popsicle in the grand scheme of things?' am I really leading her down the road to a lifetime of unhappyiness?
Sometimes I feel like my REAL job is to protect her from herself.
Brush your teeth
Take a bath
Wear sun screen
These are all the physical things that will hurt her over the course of her lifetime should she not do them NOW.
But what about all the little things now that she's not a baby ... The bending to her whims because it's easier and really, I don't have an opinion one way or the other?
Do they not add up to some form of decay as well?