Several years ago, I started to write this post about my youngest daughter. At the time she was six. Now she is ten and I wish the conversations with her were this easy or entertaining.
Something is going on with her. I ask her but she says she’s fine. I have also discovered that she lies effortlessly so I don’t believe her exactly. I want to believe her. I really do.
She’s also been eating ice cream in the middle of the night. So far we’ve found six cartons. Not to mention the candy wrappers and yogurt containers.
Today, I have to pick her up from detention . . . again. Everyday I sound like Marvin Gaye: What’s going on? But with more eye rolling and aggravation.
So let’s revisit the time when my baby told me everything, even when it was too much information.
The conversations at the bus stop with Little Sister #2 are interesting. Some mornings, the topics come out of nowhere.
Yesterday, she said, “Do you know why I don’t want you to die?”
I answered, “No. Why?” At this point, I have no idea. It could be anything.
She said, ” Because I love you so much. ”
The school counselor says it is normal for her to worry.
My favorite thing is when she sings along with the radio. It cracks me up that she knows the words to rock music. (FYI: I do not let her watch the videos.)
One morning, I tried an experiment. I switched to the country channel to see if she noticed. I never listen to the country station so I wondered if she liked country music.
Nope. She most certainly does not.
She piped up right away. Basically, she asked me to turn it back. Now we know that she likes Slipknot and Katy Perry.