This week is our Spring Break.
Since the kids don’t have school today, I let them stay up a little later than usual last night, and we watched a movie.
As soon as it was over, I told the kids to go upstairs and get into bed.
No one really moved.
“If you guys ever want to do this again, you need to follow the directions,” I said.
Number 3 and 5 went upstairs.
Number 4 was still right there on the couch.
I just looked at her.
“Go upstairs,” I said.
I was starting to clench my teeth.
“Mom, if you had to describe me with one word, do you think you could do it?” she asked.
Several words flashed through my mind.
None of them were appropriate for a 6-year-old’s ears.
“No,” I said.
“My one word is no. Now get upstairs.”
“I could do it,” she said, completely unphased and totally ignoring me.
“I would say talented,” she said.
“I’m very talented.”
And with that, she hopped off the couch and skipped up to bed.
Where the hell did that come from?
And why can’t I be like that?
I think she spends her entire day having conversations with herself about how awesome she is.
And I’d like to change my answer to her question.
My one word is confident.
I wish I had one fraction of that.
You know, naturally.
Without having to work at it, and to rewire my brain to think that way.
While she frustrates the crap out of me at times, I have always maintained that Number 4 is going to go very far in life.
And we think we are the ones teaching life lessons to our children.
I’d say a good 50% of the time, it’s the other way around.
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