Being the Boss

Currently, my littlest child has become the ruler of our household. I'm really not sure how it happened. She is very bossy. If you ask her, "Who's bossy?" She'll reply, "Me!" Not a very good start for her, because now she has to figure out that the world doesn't revolve around her. Since I have been home all day, she has developed an insane attachment to me and goes wherever I go. She's a lot of work. She loves to run and play outside and swing. The chickens belong to her. The television belongs to her. Mommy belongs to her. She's also very funny. She's a great little singer. A great mimic. If one of the brothers does something, she's right there doing it, too. I remember being that way as a child. Her worst quality is her fearlessness.

Absolutely nothing frightens this child, except the thought of not getting what she wants. Watching her on the playground equipment at the park is an exercise in control, because I don't believe in being an obsessively controlling parent. Our previous parenting beliefs and skills and practices are all being tested by this little tiny child. She knows just how far to push it, throws endless tantrums, blinks and smiles and says, "I wuv you." "I do it," is both my favorite and most despised phrase.

At the same time as all of this, she is adorable. Absolutely precious. A pure spirit, with radiant blue eyes, and an impish grin. I don't know how she pulls it off.