Disapproval and instruction

Today was a banner day for BC, who really has a way with putting others in their places. Last night we went to dinner with the grandparents, and I proceeded to dump the "non-spill" kiddy cup they had given BC's little brother all over the table. I suppose they only intend it to be non-spill if you leave the lid on. If you try to take the lid off, all bets go with it. In point of fact, if you try to take the lid off you will find it next to impossible, which will probably cause you to spill the contents of the cup. But my excuses and explanations are inadequate. Just ask BC.

She looked utterly horrified that I would spill the drink, and especially that I would spill it all over Grandma, who was sitting opposite me. As we were mopping it up, she was looking at me with a look that said, "You are a disgrace." And I suppose she was right. But she didn't have to say as much. Not even by implication.

"Mama, you should not have done that," she said. I acknowledged that she was right. But that was not enough.

When the waitress came to clean things up, BC piped up, "I'm sorry she did that," placing such an emphasis on "she" as to make it entirely clear that the nitwit who visited this breach of etiquette upon her fellow diners could not in any way fairly be linked with her. But not even that was enough.

She then addressed her little brother and said, "You know that what she did was inappropriate." Again with the "she." It took a good 20 minutes for her indignation to wear off.

***
This evening, BC accompanied her father on some errands. At one point he expressed frustration by saying, "Oh, shoot."

"Daddy, little people should say phooey." He agreed with her that it was a very suitable word for little people.

"Sometimes big people say bad words," she went on. He once again agreed.

"Sometimes Mommy says bad words. And Mommy shouldn't say bad words."

Thanks, kid. Reminds me of the time you went to Acme with Daddy and, on your way through the wine and beer section, announced loudly so that all of the customers in the aisle heard you, "Mommy comes to this aisle three times a day!"

***

Later in the evening, she decided that I should take a nap on the couch, so she industriously began covering me up with "blankets," to wit a waterproof changing pad and a kitchen trash bag that happened to be on hand from our cleaning spree this weekend. I was touched with her concern. She even went so far as to find me some bedtime reading.

"Would you like to read this before bed?" She handed me a copy of Richard II.

"Umm, sure, I guess so. Thanks." I took it from her. "Would you like me to read you some of it?"

"No fank you. I will read it to you because I know it as well as you do."

She then began reading to me about Thomas II.

I offered once again to read it to her. I said I could read her Gaunt's speech about England. She acquiesced and handed me the book. As I read aloud, she said, "You can read to yourself so you can fall asleep."

I chose not to be offended and simply kept reading aloud.

"Are you reading to yourself?" she asked imperiously.

"Yes, I am," I replied.

"Okay." Because this is a child who knows which hills she's ready to die on.

***

As a bonus, I was changing the little man's pants this afternoon as he was having a nuclear meltdown. I discovered that it was because his pants were filthy. As I changed them, he was wailing and sobbing and his tears were dripping into his ears, calling to mind the next Top 10 Tiny Tot Country Hits song title: I've Got Tears in My Ears from Lying on My Back on My Pillow Crying Over Poo.

Which in turn called to mind the new hit titles from Ellie's last meltdown, taken verbatim from the rants she indulged in: "I Can't Make My Voice Stop Crying," (choked out amidst gasps and sobs that had taken up residence in her ragey little throat) and "Come Back, Come Back, I love You," words uttered after she was deposited punitively in her room.