Wondergirl’s Greatest Hits

 

I’m back, and it’s good to be home.  Vacation was actually pretty uneventful.  I love uneventful.

While we were gone, Wondergirl turned 10.  Ten years of sweet, sassy and sometimes downright scary. I mean, this was the girl who, five days ago, managed to be unhappy in the Happiest Place on Earth, because the gate lady couldn’t tell that she had turned ten the day before. Of course, it’s always something with her.  Has been since birth.  Listen, when she was–

One year old:  Wondergirl had gotten used to Grandma buying her clothes.  Grandma shops at Macy’s and Nordstrom–even for babies.   So when Nana (the Big Man’s mom) got her a couple of outfits from Target, Wondergirl refused to wear it.  She acted like we were trying to put her in sackcloth and ashes.  However, since she wasn’t born into an independently wealthy family, she has gotten used to wearing clothes from Target.  (It was either that or go naked.)
Three years old:  Potty training.  I tried to be nice about potty training with her, but a week into that, she was still having on-purposes.  You read that right–she was going to the bathroom in her pants on purpose.  I know this because she would walk into the room, look me dead in the eye, and go for it.  And then keep looking at me like, “Now clean it up.”  The last time, I handed her a pack of Little Mermaid underwear, knelt down to her level, and told her “If you mess these up, we are going out back for a fistfight.”  It never happened again.  She never even wet the bed.
Age five:  Kindergarten.  Ohhh, Wondergirl’s first day of school.  I can’t tell you how happy I was.  We went all out, too.  My Little Pony Pencils, Hello Kitty backpack, Hannah Montana pencils (you know, before she became Skanky McSkankerson), you name it.  Then we got to school and discovered that school supplies were community property–it all went into a big pot for everyone to share.  OH, she was upset.  And she held a grudge against her teacher until Christmas break.  Whenever anyone asked her how she like her new teacher, she would say, “She’s okay, for a thief.”
Seven:  Wondergirl decided that she was going to pick a fight with Kid Sensation, who was three at the time.  Poor kid didn’t know what hit him (her fist). The Big Man sent her to her room for the rest of the night.  When I go upstairs, Wondergirl had pushed a super sweet little note under her door, apologizing for everything and describing her parents in the most glowing, adoring, terms.  Wait, no, none of that happened.  Well she did write us a note: “Mom and Dad.  I am not coming downstares until you uhpolajize to me and let me play on the commputer. You can bring my dinner to me. Not Love, Wondergirl.”  I corrected her spelling with a red pen and shoved it back under the door.
Nine:  Wondergirl confronted the school principal because she didn’t get the teacher she wanted.  She was transferred to the other teacher’s class the next day.
I love all of it, though.  Wondergirl is who she is and is completely comfortable in her own skin. All in all, I think she’s pretty amazing. I took me decades to get that kind of confidence and chutzpah.
This is what I think of Wondergirl. It is also what Wondergirl thinks of Wondergirl.
I have to admit, though, that I am terrified of the next ten years.  Maybe I’ll look into perpetual mild sedation.  For me, I mean.
P.S.  For some reason, WordPress Italicized my post.  I don’t know why and I don
 
 

 

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