Admit it; we all know one child we don’t think is cute. When we see it, (him / her) we are polite generally because we like the parents.
Funnily enough this is the only time I consciously try to be the adult. I realise like the kid or not, as the adult I have to behave. Adults, when dealing with children have the ability to scar the little critter with a comment, snarl, and curl of lip or glare. I just don’t want that on my conscious.
I have a family friend (FF) whose face freezes like an evil witch when my beautiful Little Miss enters the room. It comes as no surprise that Little Miss becomes Little Miss Shite in FF’s company.
To Little Miss’ defense, she can’t help it. How can she possibly be expected to behave when FF suggests she play in the hallway rather in FF’s formal lounge close to mummy and daddy so she doesn't accidentally knock over the lamp, a table or spill her juice on the expensive lounge.
I genuinely liked FF. We hit it off instantly and became solid friends. I got caught up with the idea that I had found a new friend, somebody I could laugh with and who would listen to my crazy ideas or thoughts without judgment. I was too busy being romanced to notice what was really going on.
When I noticed FF’s reaction to Little Miss, I started to despair. I know there are moments (generally during a tantrum or a projectile vomit incident) that only a mother could love their child. But Little Miss generally is good kid (except when we travel in cars, buses, planes or if she doesn't want to leave the park, pick up her toys, sit on the potty, eat, sleep, talk to grandma or grandpa, or visit particular people). I knew I had to end the relationship.
FF made Little Miss miserable. I am not confrontational (except with Mr. Right, so I am told). I hate conflict. I was not going to confront FF, I decided I was going to back away gently from the relationship and keep contact and visits to a minimum until they either improved or gradually faded away.
I didn’t want Little Miss to give FF a second thought. Leaving the relationship without drama was the only way in my mind that Little Miss would forget about the Wicked Witch. I told Mr. Right about my wicked plan and he thought I was insane. He hadn’t noticed FF’s behavior, or Little Miss’ reactions.
We visited FF. Little Miss, the baby and I spent the entire day at FF’s house while Mr. Right and FF’s husband tended to ‘men’s business.’
I prepared Little Miss by bringing along an activity bag. This normally entertains her for about three minutes, but on this visit she spent, I kid you not, the entire visit being Little Miss Angel.
Shove that up your curling lip, get on your broomstick and fly away, I thought when FF’s frozen face started to soften. I started to relax. Perhaps I misjudged FF. Perhaps I was a little overprotective (no surprise there), perhaps FF wasn't as bad as I thought?
When Mr. Right and FF’s husband returned from their male bonding men’s business day, we went out for a late lunch to an outdoor café with a large garden. Taking advantage of the outdoors, Little Miss promptly took out her bubble blower and bubble liquid.
She took great delight in blowing bubbles and chasing after them. FF asked Little Miss to blow her bubbles away from the table. Little Miss failed to comply as she couldn’t control the direction of the wind (what nearly 3 year old can?). The bubbles continued to dance in the breeze, often coming our way.
It was beautiful. Little Miss had created a magical atmosphere. I was about to praise her when FF got up, stormed over to Little Miss, snatched the liquid and the bubble blower from her hand and told her enough was enough.
She advised that the popping bubbles were staining her new expensive jacket. Little Miss burst into tears. I cuddled Little Miss and looked at Mr. Right with my ‘I told you so’ face.
We swallowed lunch pretending to have the appetite of a starving nation. We politely said goodbye and haven’t seen FF or her husband since.
Moral to the story? Mr. Rights, listen to your partners / wives/ girlfriends. When it comes to our kid’s we’re always right.
This blog is the result of Lisa Lintern's blog a day challenge visit Melodramatic Me for more information.