Milly has been sensory seeking all weekend, and it’s been getting on my last nerve. Truly. “Mom-mom-mom-mom-mom-moooOOOoooooOOoooom!”
“I wanna go for a bike ride! Can I ask Jack to play? Can I run around the block? Can I go to the park? Can I paint in the basement? Can I…Can I…Can i…I I I I I I iiiiiiiiiiiiiii……”
Grace has been particularly irritable as well what with her week-long migraine. We see the extra-special neurologist on Tuesday. We’ve been waiting for this appointment for months!
So, today, as Milly came into the kitchen I girded my loins. She appeared to twitch. She looked like one of my cats right before they start ripping around the house. She sighed loudly and threw herself onto the kitchen floor. Just what every mother loves to see her child do.
“MooOOOooooOOOm! There’s no one to play with! I’ve asked everyone, and Grace won’t play with me! Eadaoin isn’t here. MooOOOOooooOOOOoooom!!!!! I wanna play outside! Mom! Mom! There’s no one to play with!” she kvetched as she flopped on the floor like a fish on the shore.
I grit my teeth, sighed, and said, “It’s a gorgeous day, Milly. Just go outside and play with yourself.”
My husband poked his head into the kitchen with a cocked eyebrow. I thought about what I’d said and inwardly groaned. Milly got up and left the kitchen but not without hissing, “I hate playing with myself.”
That is so going to come back to haunt me most likely at an important appointment wherein a doctor will ask Milly to tell him of her likes and dislikes. Being a contrarian by nature, she will be sure to speak of her dislikes first with a robust tone:
“Well, doctor, I can tell you this. I hate playing with myself, but my mother makes me do it all the time. She says that’s it good for me and helps me develop a good imagination and a sense of independence. Playing with myself, my mother says, will help me in the future for all those times when I’m alone, but I gotta say right now–I don’t like it.”
And, you know what? It’s going to happen! Just like that! Why? Because these things happen to me. And, the doctor will look upon me with horror and judgment, and then I’ll be forced to explain.
“Well, you see, doc, it all happened one day when she threw herself on the kitchen floor…”