April vacation, and A is alternately a diva and a doll, soaring through emotional highs and lows.  My mom has always said that age Four is a “mini-adolescence,” but I didn’t quite get it until today.

“I’m NEVER going to talk to you again, Mommy!” A announced, in public, at Open Play Gymnastics.  The other parents exchanged amused looks.

I had made the error of rolling a hoop for Carmen and asking A to WAIT for me to join in her princess fantasy play. Usually the patient big sister, A pulled a Jekyll-and-Hyde and morphed into a preschool/preteen drama queen.

“Then I’m NEVER going to play with you,” she said, storming off to her own corner of the gym.  When I followed her and tried to make up, she hit me and spat:  ”I said you’re not allowed to talk to me!”

I kept my sense of humor, thinking she’d snap out of it in five minutes.  But she continued for another hour, going so far as to relay messages to me through Carmen to keep her vow of silence.

However, it’s hard to boycott your mother when you really want her to fix you a bagel with cream-cheese.

A often expresses strong feelings at being left out or not given enough attention.  This weekend she made a Treasure Hunt through the downstairs with clues spelled out on white pieces of paper:  ”STOOL”… “TABLE”…. “CHAIR”…. “COUCH”… “STAIRS”…  (She asked me, letter by letter, how to spell the words).

Carmen and I eagerly followed the hunt to the final clue, on the stairs. It was  a cardboard box with a white envelope inside, addressed to me.  I opened it to find a brief letter:

“DIANA NO ONE LOVES ME.”

As the oldest of four, I remember feeling this way as a child, when my mom was absorbed in my needy younger siblings.  Deep down I knew it wasn’t true, but I still wanted to be reassured.  I wanted PERSONAL ATTENTION, although I was getting more independent every day.

So lately, whenever she’s in a snuggly mood , I pick up my lanky first child and hold her on my hip like a baby.

Tags:   adolescence · preschooler · school vacationNo Comments