Monday, November 12, 2012

Happy Birthday to my Junior Verbal Assasin in Training!

Eight years ago today, I was busy giving the Evil Eye to nurses who implied that I was not, in fact, a first time mother (having delivered my wee tiny porcelain doll baby with a minimum of labor type antics). Princess was born at 1:54 in the morning, and easily became the prettiest girl baby I've ever seen. No really, she was beautiful. A tiny, perfectly formed little quiet angel baby.

Who began to cry incessantly at 2 weeks of age and didn't stop until 3 months of age. I am still recovering. The PTSD, it wounds, readers in Sri Lanka.

Now she's eight and if that doesn't make me feel like I need the 'tox NOW (along with other, more expensive procedures) I don't know what does. Where the time went, we may never know.

We do know, readers in France, that it went toward creating the eight-year old version of this:


This, non-American readers in India, is Don Corleone holding his furry consigliere. CLEARLY. This is also roughly what my daughter becomes when something...displeases...her. She will pet her Obese Housecat and plot deadly revenge. Possibly with Canterella. Why yes, I DID just throw the infamous-Borgia-house-dressing in there! Hey, Borgia, Corleone, both from Italy and both not averse to whacking anyone who causes a problem!

Princess is a very sweet little girl, and a very SMART little girl. Disciplining her at all typically results in an hours-long Mexican stand-off, with her at the top of the stairs, shaking her fist at the injustice of it all, before she retreats to her room to mix some Canterella write vendetta letters.

Her temperament hasn't changed much since she was a baby; only now instead of endless crying, I get endless rationally-constructed filibusters with a dash of implied car-brake-line-cutting threats thrown in for flavor.

Her teacher tells me all the time what a true joy and wonderful example of all things academic and brilliant she is. That's just what she *wants* you to think. That way, when you offend her, you'll never see her coming.

On a related note: the bus driver had better watch his back. She and another girl are plotting to create some sort of diversion in order to sit together after being moved last week. Note to self: leave time open for visiting with Vice Principal this week. Again.

Obviously this post is lighter than me writing something that would leave me weeping all over my desk (and my artificially-flavored coffee), but in all seriousness, Happy Birthday to the coolest girl I know. You make your mommy proud every day. Even when you plot revenge. Especially when you plot revenge. (Hey, two scorpios in one house, what can you do?)

I love that little kid. She'll set the world ablaze someday. Hopefully just with her righteous intellect and talent.

Happy 8th birthday Princess!

Comments, questions, where did the time go?

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