Six years ago, when Gracie was a diaper-wearing toddler, I blogged about her love for Playmobil and the pop-up dollhouse I saved from my own childhood Playmobil-playing days. {clicky click}
On Sunday night, I caught Gracie out of bed TWICE, just goofing off in the bathroom. As we've already done the whole toilet-wad-thrown-up-on-the-ceiling thing, and the entire-bottle-of leave-in-conditioner-sprayed-on-the-mirror thing, and the nail-polish-pictures-all-over-the-door thing (as well as dropped in the toilet. REDDISH BROWN NAIL POLISH. It's not a pretty sight) - always after bedtime - I knew not to trust my 7-year-old.
"GET IN BED RIGHT NOW!" I yelled that second time, since my calm and rational-sounding request for her to get in bed clearly didn't work the first time.
Also, she was in her pajamas, standing in the bathtub.
?!?
And then she completely burst into tears, and climbed out of the bathtub, and sobbed all the way back to her room. No, not because I yelled at her. She doesn't even hear the yelling, I'm convinced.
"I was setting up an April Fool trick, and it was a good one, too," she said, through her tears, and then pulled the bed covers over her head.
"Wait, what was the trick going to be?" I asked.
"I was tying fake money to strings in the shower, so you'd think it was real and freak out."
Well. It didn't actually look like real money - I checked - but not bad, kid, not bad!
Last year, this was the April Fool I got:
We have officially reached the first holiday in which a child KNOWS THE TRUTH ABOUT YOU KNOW WHO.
(no, I'm not talking about Voldemort, you guys. I'm talking about a certain cotton-tailed, gift-giving creature)
This discovery happened a couple weeks into the new year, when Gracie, my 7-year-old, upon rifling through a stack of scrapbook paper, came across a familiar patterned paper.
VERY FAMILIAR.
It was a paper that looked exactly like the papers the Tooth Fairy uses for her hand written in special curly-cue handwriting notes. Also, Santa? Yeah, his handwriting is the same.
She cried out in horror, and I when I turned around and saw her, she was clutching the paper and her chest, her face crumpled and tears dripping from her chin. It was so tragically hilarious I finally understood why Will finds it physically impossible to keep from laughing whenever I cry. Gracie takes after me in many, many ways. And we both apparently take after the Make it Snow Girl, because watching her YouYube vid is like looking at myself in the mirror when I'm feeling particularly emotional.
Poor kiddo. Watching her complete and total devastation made me want to cry for her shattered innocence and laugh all at once (I restrained myself). I hugged her and talked to her about it, but nothing I said made it better, and she also cried that mermaids must not be real, or Saint Nick, or anything that she has ever believed in.
After a few minutes, she promised to keep the secret from her sister and started to leave for her room so she could sob in private... But just before she left, I turned over the paper she'd found, and unfolded it.
And whattadya know....
IT WAS THE NOTE THE FLIPPIN' TOOTH FAIRY LEFT FOR ANNELIE THE PREVIOUS WEEK.
"Gracie... did you LOOK at the paper you found?"
"No."
"Well..." So I showed her. She couldn't believe it. Also, lately Gracie has decided that jumping to the worst possible conclusion in any situation is the way to experience life, despite the fact that it frequently leaves her emotionally drained. Again, she sort of takes after me a little.
The last few months have been a challenge for her. With Easter approaching, she's been emotional all over again. She went crawling into my lap the other day after hearing Annelie gush about how excited she is for a certain carrot-loving visitor. The fattest tears were streaking down her cheeks.
Sometimes it's hard for me to watch the kiddos growing up. But sometimes I think it's harder for the kiddos to watch themselves growing up.
In any event, she showed how grown up she can be this morning, when I reminded the girls to pull out their baskets so they can leave it for the Easter Bunny. Annelie started crying immediately, because apparently her basket is gone (I'm guessing she took it outside when she wasn't supposed to, and it got rained on and wrecked), and she figured that meant she wouldn't be getting any presents this year.
"Here, Annelie! You can use my basket!" Gracie jumped in immediately, passing Annelie her basket. With how much sibling rivalry has been going on lately, this kind of sisterly sacrifice made me all sappy.
I just love it!
And I love even more that when I said, "Hey, Gracie, don't you think you'll need some kind of basket for YOUR presents?" she got super excited and produced this crafty little number:
Since she was in kindergarten, my 7-year-old has dreamed of winning her school's Imaginations creativity contest. There's a range of mediums to choose from - art, photography, short stories, etc. In kindergarten, when the theme was announced, she was so excited she planned on entering in every category.
It's a project without parent involvement, so I provided whatever materials she would need, then gave her space to do her creative little thing. Gracie had big plans - huge - and knew it would possibly take all the weeks allotted to complete her projects. That only excited her more, and she worked every day after school....
And then her friends began handing in their own finished projects, and Gracie seemed to realize there was a chance she might not win.
With that, she was done. She set down her art supplies, looked indifferent, and insisted, "I don't have to enter. It's not homework. It's just if people want to. And I don't want to anymore."
When Gracie digs in her heels, she goes NOWHERE. Not the tiniest millimeter further, no matter how much encouraging and cheering Will and I are doing on the sidelines. (Sometimes being a parent sucks)
I was so mad. I tried not to be. Being mad at her certainly doesn't help at all. Besides, she's exactly like me, EXACTLY. And when I dig in my heels because of self-doubt, that's that.
Also, I learn from example, and she does, too. So after the contest passed for the SECOND year, and she still didn't enter because she was still too afraid to lose, and I was once again MAD, I told her that I was going to enter a short story contest - even though short stories aren't really my area of expertise. The winner of a contest I'd been toying with the idea of entering would be published, and that sounded like a mighty nice prize. And I told her that in second grade, no matter what, she had to enter her school's contest.
Gracie was intrigued by the idea of me entering a contest, too, and promised she would. I updated her on my short story-writing status for weeks. When my story was done, she watched me chew off my nails as I entered. A couple weeks later, the winners were announced and I wasn't among them. I was disappointed and she was the cutest thing as she hugged me, and let me know it would be okay (Most of the time, being a parent doesn't suck). She watched me get over it, sit at my computer, and get back to work.
Weeks ago, the contest at her school was announced, the theme being Elect to be Excellent! She remembered her promise, and took it all very seriously, sketching out pictures of kids being excellent by acing spelling tests, and considering possible short story ideas. Annelie entered in the K-1st grade Art division, but two days before the deadline, Gracie still wasn't sure what to do about her half-finished pieces. She was already talking about the other kids winning, and I worried, once again, that she would lose to self-doubt.
So I dug in my heels. "Either finish a project you are working on and possibly win, or turn it in unfinished and definitely lose. It's your choice, but YOU ARE ENTERING," I said. (breathing fire. I can be scary)
And it worked! Gracie tossed out every unfinished, hated thing she'd begun and grabbed her notebook - which she is never without. Starting fresh, she wrote the most brilliant poem!
