New Years Day and we wake up to the most delightful little girl you can possibly imagine. She has fetched Happy Boy and they have hidden in her room doing “something secret”. It’s a pretty reasonable hour too, between 9am and 10am. We have the perfect children, what the hell have I been complaining about? They tiptoe, giggling, into our room to give us a pile of drawings, pictures and messages of love. Mayhem, on a good day, is utterly enchanting, loving, funny and caring. She is extremely intelligent and showing signs of being a talented artist. She can convince anyone to do anything for her.
A force to be reckoned with.
Darth Vader and Princess Leia rolled into one.
We cherish these gloriously loving moments, we never know how long they will last, because there is always something. Something to remind us that something is just not quite right.
This evening, it is “The Stickman”.
Happy Boy has asked to watch it and Dad agrees that they can watch it before bedtime. It is 26 minutes long. Mayhem doesn’t want to watch it. She loves reading, yet she refuses to to read at this time, instead, sitting on the sofa, howling and whimpering like a wounded puppy left alone in a dark and scary place. I wish I were exaggerating, but sadly, I am not. She is driven by the need to dictate what happens at all times. If it’s not to her liking, then no-one can like it. No amount of negotiation, pleading, threats of punishment or alternatives can make her stop. We watch the 26 minutes of “The Stickman” with added bonus of the Howling Hound soundtrack, before engaging in a teeth brushing battle. Because tonight, she doesn’t know how to brush her teeth.
Dry January is going to be a very long month.