I’ve been posting quite a bit about my daughter lately because she’s adorable. She’s three, which is the age of abounding cuteness as well as horrific attitude. Raising children is a little like meeting someone new–every day.
What have I recently learned about Girl Q? In addition to her recent fanaticism for pretend role-playing (Simba & Mufasa, Charlie & Lola, Shaggy & Scooby-Doo, cats & dogs, ghosts & zombies…), she has developed an affinity for telling tall-tales.
“Girl Q, how did you get those scratches?!”
“When I was little there was a monster chasing me and he scratched me! And I bled and I died.”
“Oh! Okay. That sounds like a good story.” (Here I’m sneakily trying to emphasize that this is a story so she can delineate the difference.)
“It wasn’t good! It was verrrry baaad.”
“Oh, I know, it’s a sad story, but I meant it was entertaining.”
“Yeah, but I was very sad after.”
And another day:
“Girl Q, did you have any good dreams?”
“No. But I did have a nightmare dream! I dreamed there was a ghost and when he closed his eyes he was a bad guy! And there was a potion.”
“We celebrate Christmas because of baby Jesus. And when he was born, there were people there who gave him presents. And that’s why we give each other presents!”
“And when Baby Jesus was Simba-”
“Baby Jesus isn’t Simba.”
“But let me tell you. When he was Simba, he went into a dangerous place and the animals were running and running and running and then his father died!”
“Okay, but …
“If there was a baby and you put him in a cage it would be really bad.”
Here’s where I started giggling…
“Hey, no laughing!”
“I’m sorry! You’re right. If Baby Jesus were Simba and we put him in a cage it would be really bad.”
I have a feeling this is the child that will require the most explanation to those outside our family. I imagine her future teachers starting conversations like this: “So, Girl Q said she got that scratch from a…monster? I wasn’t sure…”
Let it be known–you can’t trust Girl Q. But you can trust her for an excellent story.