Ah, school. Wonderful institutions of learning and socialization. Poppet started pre-school last year and has flourished in so many ways. She’s made friends with everyone at school, and I do mean everyone. She knows the names of all the children and all the teachers. She’s learning numbers and the alphabet and children’s songs.
Of course, there are ways in which her behaviour hasn’t benefited so well. Her eating habits took a bit of a dive but they’re back on track now. Sort of. Sometimes. She did accuse me of trying to feed her poisoned fish the other night (but for that I blame Snow White).
Occasionally, she says things that disturb me. (I’m not talking about, “I love Barney, Mommy!” although every parent feels a soul-crushing horror on hearing those words.) I’ve had to explain to her that “stupid” is not an acceptable word in our house, even in the context of, “Stupid fly!” I had to make her understand “Oh, my God!” isn’t respectful to God. We’re still working on getting her to stop yelling, “Leave me alone!” when she doesn’t get her way.
Three is harder than Two. She’s discovering her own strength of will and pushing limits of acceptable behaviour every chance she can get. We’ve had to learn to choose our battles – does it really matter if she has Otees or Weetbix for breakfast? – but there are some lines that need to be firmly drawn before a precocious threenager turns into a little tyrant.
The latest gem from her lips was, “You’re destroying my life!” What was this unreasonable thing we were asking her to do? Finish her supper. I know, terrible parents, aren’t we?
She confirmed she learnt it at school, and was made to understand that there would be unpleasant consequences if she ever said that to either of us again. A short while later, we heard a mumbled, “It’s not fair.”
I honestly thought we had at least ten years before she started with that. Three going on 13. Fun times.