Nov 14 2005
That little bitch, Abigail, is up to her old tricks again…
It’s hard not to fight your kids’ battles for them. Because, let’s face it, when the ‘enemy’ is a 3 year old, it’s one of those rare times in your life that you have the full advantage of age, weight, maturity, knowledge, and authority.
I could take Abigail. I really could.
Last time, Jadyn was all concerned about her PANTS. Evidently, Abigail had cool pants and had told Jadyn that her pants were not cool. My kid wears blue jeans, sweats, or leggings everyday so I’m not sure what Abigail has over her – do they MAKE leather pants in 3T? Is Abby wearing sequins and rhinestones on her drawers or what?
This new issue is over ROCK STARDOM. Yes, you read that right. My three year old is upset because – get this – Abigail is a rock star but Abigail tells Jadyn that she is NOT a rock star.
So for a week straight, Jadyn worked hard to dress like a rock star. “Mommy? Do rock stars wear Tinkerbell on their shirts?” “Yes, honey, of course they do. Rock stars LOVE Tinkerbell!” (Well, I’m guessing maybe Freddie Mercury did! It wasn’t a total lie!) We discussed what rock stars eat for breakfast (bananas and Nutrigrain bars) and whether rock stars have blankies (some do, some don’t). My kid has no clue what a rock star is, but, dammit, she wants Abigail’s validation that she is, in fact, a rock star.
At the end of each day, I would ask how her day went and she would say “Abigail said I’m STILL not a rock star.” Sad, pouty, mopey face…
Now I don’t know who made this Abigail kid the Decider of Rock Stardom, but dammit I’m tired of her lording her high social standing in the Penguin Room over my precious (and completely innocent, sinless, perfect) little Jadie-Beth.
I was back to the point of formulating a plan, of meddling in Jadyn’s social affairs, of trying to scare Abigail into peeing in her rock star pants when the teachers weren’t looking. I considered a subtle tricycle accident but disregarded that plan – not my style. Maybe cutting the stick off of one of those toy horses and putting the head in Abigail’s little toddler bed. I even considered filling her little Tupperware juice box with unsweetened grapefruit juice! Yes, I was THAT serious!
But in the end, I took the high road. One morning last week when dropping Jadie off at school, I addressed the whole class – students and teachers alike. I said “Good morning, Penguins! Do you see my little girl here? Isn’t she a ROCK STAR? Doesn’t she look like a rock star in her cool outfit? DO ALL OF YOU THINK SHE’S A ROCK STAR?”
They all agreed that she was. That little Abigail had to begrudgingly go along with the group consensus that Jadyn was an awesome rock star.
Let her later try to renege on her position. Let her move the battle ground yet again… for example, let her try to tell Jadyn that it’s not possible for her to be a doctor-ballerina-who-works-at-the-doughnut-place when she grows up. Just give me a little ammunition. I’ve got an itchy trigger finger and I’m takin’ Abigail DOWN.
Bring it on.
