The Apocalyptic Rage of an 8 Year Old
While attempting to shepherd our daughters towards their beds at a somewhat acceptable time yesterday evening, the balance of power began an imperceptible shift towards them, and away from me. My first warning came while wandering back downstairs to help our eldest with her homework.
A few seconds into proof reading a spirited account of the Battle of Bosworth Hill, we heard the screams, and the shouted accusations. We both slammed everything down on the table, and began our ascent of the stairs towards the source of the commotion.“She kicked me in the head!”“She grabbed me by the neck!”“She hit my leg!”“She went like that!” (accompanied with theatrical shove into thin air)“ENOUGH!”. I sent one to get into her pyjamas, and the other to brush her teethonly she wasn't about to go. Standing naked in the doorway of the bedroom, she attempted to exercise the age old tactic of engaging Dad in conversation to stay up another minute later.“Brush your teeth.”“But I want to tell you”“Brush your teeth.”“But I want”“Brush your teeth.“At this point the naked little girl transformed explosively into a small nuclear device. She contorted Gollum like on the spot, alternately crouching to the floor, and standing bolt upright, grasping white knuckled fingers at the air while emitting roaring noises. Unfortunately her 8 year old ideas, and wonderful innocence undid her display of shock and awe quite spectacularly.
You want to know what the best threat was that came into her head?She snatched a magna-doodle off the floor (a magnetic drawing board);“I GOING TO DRAW YOU!“I burst out laughing. So did our eldest. It didn't help.