Her Moments...

Cookie: “Mana, do you want me to go sit on your lap and give you some love?”
Me: “Oh, yes. I can’t resist love.”

Me: “I couldn’t take the phone to the party, because I was already holding you, the umbrella, the car keys, the two plates of food, and the drinks. I only have two hands, you know.”
Cookie: “The octopus has eight hands. Maybe you could dress up like one and then you’d have more hands.”
Cookie (a minute later): “No, that wouldn’t work. The hands would fall down.”

30 Days of "Her Own Way"

So with the end of the school year (I made it! surprisingly enough.) I’m back to being a full-time sister. Which doesn’t help the fact that God has not rewarded me with patience for the last couple of weeks. I’m freaking out all of the time, about the stupidest things (like the fact that we always have dirty dishes), I yell a lot, and I probably don’t make Cookie feel good, either. I’m deeply ashamed of myself for being such a shitty sister lately, but my beloved child has grown to be so difficult! She doesn’t do anything I ask her to anymore. Forget rules, because now she wants to do things “her own way, not my way”. It’s like we’re in a constant battle over who has the power to say how things will work, and I’m losing every time. She’s talking back to me! My little angel gets angry at me and yells back. Which makes me even angrier, which in turn makes her angrier, which doesn’t help the situation at all. I wish things would go back to normal, you know. I honestly never minded picking her outfits, and I resent it now when we go shopping and she refuses to get the cutest ones. Should I let her dress like an old beggar? Or should I impose my will, like I’ve been trying to do with no success? Such hard choices. I realized that loving a small child is easy; they’re cute and all, they listen to you, they say how much they love you, the obey the rules and go to bed when it’s time. But loving an almost-five-year-old is freaking hard; it is not for the faint of heart. Sometimes my Cookie has to remind me to speak softly to her, and although it breaks my heart, I think: “how the hell am I supposed to stay calm and speak softly when you’re turning the whole freaking world upside down?” I haven’t come up with an answer yet.

While I don’t find the magic formula for good sisterhood, I should just pray for more patience. God knows I love her, but I foresee a long month ahead of us.

The Three Little Pigs and the Princess

Cookie and I like to read stories. Well, she likes to listen while I read, but that’s a start. I read to her every night that I’m home, and if I sleep over, she gets to pick two stories instead of one. She’s learned to pick the big books and count them as one story… she’s got future. Sometimes I forget sleeping over means two stories (ok, maybe ‘forget’ is not the word), and she reminds me: “mana, what about the second story?” and when I ask why, she replies: “because yesterday you said sleeping over meant two stories.” Yesterday, of course, meaning any time from yesterday to four years ago, when she was born. Gotta love it how her world is so easy compared to mine.
While other girls like Princesses stories, mine likes the Three Little Pigs. We read the same story every night, and sometimes we read it a second time, too. I’ve grown smarter now, and started buying her new books so we’d have “more options to choose from”. So far, no success. But then, who can blame her? I read the Harry Potter books eight times, and I’m a happy person.
At first I would ask mom to read to her when I wasn’t home. But you know how it is with moms (or is it just mine?), they’re always tired and full of other stuff to do. Mom also said she couldn’t read in English, and while we can’t find books in Portuguese on Amazon, there’s little I can do. But eventually I realized I don’t really want to share this moment with her. Call me selfish, I don’t mind. It’s my moment with Cookie, and it’s something only we can share. We lie in bed with our blankets and read, one word at a time. Eventually she starts “reading” to me, telling me what comes next and pointing at the pictures. Oh God, how I love her.
p.s. Did you know that something different happens to the big, bad wolf depending on which book you’ve got?