My Little Angel
We were playing on the playground after school. Lila was making brave attempts to swing from the rings while Violet and I dug in the dirt and watched her. It was a nice afternoon. Not too cool, warm sun, just lovely. Then I heard this little girl yell "Hey! That's her! Right there digging! That's the girl that threw a chair at me!" The Playground Moms shot their heads up, ripped from their conversation about chardonney and workout schedules to see who was the offender. Or better yet, who was her mom. Shit, I'm thinking, now we've got to change schools.
About a month ago my niece had a birthday party. She was turning six and her mom had invited something like twenty five people to the party (yeah, crazy bitch, I know). It was a fun day. The kids played in the kiddie pools and ran around wild. A few of the quieter kids went upstairs and played in the birthday girl's room. That worked out well - for awhile.
We were a couple of hours into the party and I was helping pass out the gifts. I'm standing there with a Barbie shaped box in one hand, the piece of paper I was writing down all the gifts on in the other hand, and had one foot holding the little nose miners away from the loot when we heard this collective scream. Suddenly, a group of six year old girls came running down the stairs and out on to the front porch. One of the little darlings was yelling that there was a little girl, a toddler, upstairs that was being mean . "She threw a chair at me!" She said with quite the dramatic flair. "Honey," said her mom "Are you sure it was a toddler that did that?" She was holding her daughter and stroking her hair. "Yes! She's right there!" She pointed her finger towards the house and up the stairs.
My two year old daughter was standing at the top of the stairs looking down at everyone.
In her defense, they were mean first. From what I could gather the girls had decided that they didn't want to play with a baby and had tried to kick Violet out of the room. Violet, the meek little sweetie, didn't care for this turn of events. When she tried to push her way back in, they pushed her out. So she did the only thing she could think of, which was pick up a wooden chair and fling it at them. It was just a small chair, you know, kid size. But it certainly got her point across which I think was "Don't push me bitch or I'll fuck you up!"
Now, I don't condone violence and I certainly don't want Violet to be a bully, but I will admit that I take a small amount of pride in the fact that my twenty five pound two year old can hold her own against a group of six year old girls. It makes me envision a time when the girls are older and someone is being mean to Lila. I can see scrappy little Violet pushing up her sleeves and daring someone to tease her sister one more time.
All three of my girls are cut from a different cloth. Jasmine was always the social butterfly. She was, and is, friends with everyone. A chatterbox that liked being in the middle of it all. Lila is more reserved. She's the quiet one who prefers a few close friends than running in the middle of a big group. She's sensitive. And then there's Violet. She was climbing up the couch at five months. She pulled hair with such force that I was certain Lila would be bald before she entered Kingergarten. Violet knew no limits as a baby. She climbed on to the counters, up the stairs, over anything in her way. She grasped her language skills pretty early on and is now a prime teaser. It's not unusual to hear her march through the house singing "Jeza Christ I dry momma nuts!". She is also very loving. We have to stop at every baby we see so she can coo about how cute they are. I love her passion, but not everyone will. We need to walk that fine line between fiesty and down right obnoxious.
The little girl ran over to where we were sitting in the dirt. "Do you remember at Wendy's birthday party when she threw a chair at me!" She was standing with her little hands on her hips and her brow furrowed. Violet looked up at her, but went back to scrapping a wide gouge through the sand with a stick. I stood up and brushed myself off. "Yes, Isabella, I remember that day quite well." I told her and put my arm around her shoulder "That wasn't very nice of Violet to do that and I'm sorry. Next time, try playing with her. She can be quite fun." Isabella looked down at Violet, who was lining acorns along the edges of the hole she had made, then ran off. The Playground Moms looked at me for a minute, but soon huddled back up. Something tells me this escapade won't help me break into their click anytime soon.
When we got home, the girls starting fighting over a toy. Violet ripped her shoe off her foot and threw it at Lila. It hit her square in the head. "Did you see that, Momma?" Lila asked me increduously. "I did." I told her. "I'll make her apologize. That wasn't very nice."
But it was a damn good shot.