As the peanut butter cookies cooled on the counter, a certain 1 year old lurked around the scene, pushing the bench up to the counter and pulling herself up onto it to get a better look at them. She stared at them for a while, then went up on her tip toes to look over the wall at her parents. Her eyes went back to the cookies, back to the parents, back to the cookies. She eventually backed down, climbing down from her stoop and pushing the bench back to the table.
She moved her cookie plea over to the person who baked the cookies, eleven year old Avery, who sat on the chair at the head of the table eating a cookie, while having her nose buried in a book.
It started out quietly.
"Weevwey, tookie." she said, almost in a whisper. "Tookie, Weevwey."
Avery ignored her as she ate and read.
Willow persisted.
"Tookie!" she said, a little louder. "Weevwey!"
Avery continued read, not even glancing up.
"WEEVWEY! TOOKIE!"
"No, Willow." Avery said, still fixed on her book.
"WEEVWEY!"
"Fine."Avery slammed her book down on the table and stood up to get her a cookie.
Willow was pleased with herself, having beaten the system of being told no. She ate her cookie gleefully.
Despite our persistence as parents not to spoil the younger kids, we've forgotten to clue the older kids in on this apparently. This isn't the first time Willow's gotten her way just by asking one of the big kids after striking out with both parents. And when the oldest kid says no, she just works her way down the line until she gets a yes.
Willow is the definition of the little girl who had a little curl right in the middle of her forehead. You know, the one who when she was good, she was very, very good but when she was bad she was horrid? That is Willow. I lovingly say she is the best and the worst. Never have I ever met a child who was so incredibly defiant but so full of love all at the same time.
Exhibit A: Willow climbs up on the counter and finds something sharp to play with. I, the responsible parent at home, am stuck on the couch feeding a newborn baby. "Willow." I say sternly. "Get down!" Willow looks at me right in the eye and says, "No." I say it a little louder. She says no a little louder, matching my tone, not breaking eye contact. It isn't until I get up off the couch and start walking towards her that she backs down, but in a last minute power grab, she throws the sharp object off the other side of the counter and onto the floor.
Exhibit B: Willow has been on a destructive path all morning but suddenly throws her doll across the living room, shoves Henry out of the way and climbs right up into my lap, startling a sleeping baby Penny. She wraps her arms around me and squeezes, then kisses me on both cheeks before laying her head on my shoulder for a while. She then bends down and kisses the top of Penny's head before wiggling away and continuing her path of destruction.
I woke up the other morning to the sound of the microwave going. After ruling out the husband or the school kids, none of which were home, I went out to check. It was Ruby. Ruby, who gave me so much blog material a few years back, has turned into the sweetest and most helpful four year old a person could ask for. (There is hope for Willow.)
Ruby decided not to wake me up that morning and instead began preparing breakfast for herself, Henry and Willow, who she had helped get out of her crib. She did a good job, perhaps a little short on water which made for some drier oatmeal. Which is actually less messy. Which is a win for me.
I let them put leftover Cool Whip from the previous day's dessert in their oatmeal, as any health conscious mother would do. When breakfast was done, Ruby asked if they could scrape the inside of the Cool Whip container and eat the rest of it. I said sure as I settled myself on the couch with the baby and a fresh cup of coffee with whipped cream. As they huddled around the container like scavengers, Willow grabbed a spoon and tried to wiggle into the mob. No luck.
In a flash, she and her spoon showed up in front of me and before I could even process anything, she dunked her spoon into the whipped cream in my coffee, scored a spoonful and shoveled it into her mouth. My jaw hit the floor. This girl is good. She overcame a setback all on her own. I was equally mad and proud of her all at the same time.
See? She is the best and the worst.
She moved her cookie plea over to the person who baked the cookies, eleven year old Avery, who sat on the chair at the head of the table eating a cookie, while having her nose buried in a book.
It started out quietly.
"Weevwey, tookie." she said, almost in a whisper. "Tookie, Weevwey."
Avery ignored her as she ate and read.
Willow persisted.
"Tookie!" she said, a little louder. "Weevwey!"
Avery continued read, not even glancing up.
"WEEVWEY! TOOKIE!"
"No, Willow." Avery said, still fixed on her book.
"WEEVWEY!"
"Fine."Avery slammed her book down on the table and stood up to get her a cookie.
Willow was pleased with herself, having beaten the system of being told no. She ate her cookie gleefully.
Despite our persistence as parents not to spoil the younger kids, we've forgotten to clue the older kids in on this apparently. This isn't the first time Willow's gotten her way just by asking one of the big kids after striking out with both parents. And when the oldest kid says no, she just works her way down the line until she gets a yes.
Willow is the definition of the little girl who had a little curl right in the middle of her forehead. You know, the one who when she was good, she was very, very good but when she was bad she was horrid? That is Willow. I lovingly say she is the best and the worst. Never have I ever met a child who was so incredibly defiant but so full of love all at the same time.
Exhibit A: Willow climbs up on the counter and finds something sharp to play with. I, the responsible parent at home, am stuck on the couch feeding a newborn baby. "Willow." I say sternly. "Get down!" Willow looks at me right in the eye and says, "No." I say it a little louder. She says no a little louder, matching my tone, not breaking eye contact. It isn't until I get up off the couch and start walking towards her that she backs down, but in a last minute power grab, she throws the sharp object off the other side of the counter and onto the floor.
Exhibit B: Willow has been on a destructive path all morning but suddenly throws her doll across the living room, shoves Henry out of the way and climbs right up into my lap, startling a sleeping baby Penny. She wraps her arms around me and squeezes, then kisses me on both cheeks before laying her head on my shoulder for a while. She then bends down and kisses the top of Penny's head before wiggling away and continuing her path of destruction.
I woke up the other morning to the sound of the microwave going. After ruling out the husband or the school kids, none of which were home, I went out to check. It was Ruby. Ruby, who gave me so much blog material a few years back, has turned into the sweetest and most helpful four year old a person could ask for. (There is hope for Willow.)
Ruby decided not to wake me up that morning and instead began preparing breakfast for herself, Henry and Willow, who she had helped get out of her crib. She did a good job, perhaps a little short on water which made for some drier oatmeal. Which is actually less messy. Which is a win for me.
I let them put leftover Cool Whip from the previous day's dessert in their oatmeal, as any health conscious mother would do. When breakfast was done, Ruby asked if they could scrape the inside of the Cool Whip container and eat the rest of it. I said sure as I settled myself on the couch with the baby and a fresh cup of coffee with whipped cream. As they huddled around the container like scavengers, Willow grabbed a spoon and tried to wiggle into the mob. No luck.
In a flash, she and her spoon showed up in front of me and before I could even process anything, she dunked her spoon into the whipped cream in my coffee, scored a spoonful and shoveled it into her mouth. My jaw hit the floor. This girl is good. She overcame a setback all on her own. I was equally mad and proud of her all at the same time.
See? She is the best and the worst.
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