Have you ever had one of those infuriating mumdays where you really want to just walk outside and scream WHYYYYYYYYYYYY? Of course you have. Because otherwise I am the only human person living around here. (Please tell me I’m not).
Little A today has been driving me a few colours of crazy. This is because she is a small ball of huge personality, is unpredictable in the extreme, as well as being quite fiercely intelligent. Her emotions are very developed in the empathy arena, but she is still, however, 3, which means she gives good tears and extremely good WHINGE. There is good reason for all of this, I’ve realised. It’s because she’s going to do great things. In light of my own recent career speed-bumps, I seem to be forming a future resume for her in my head. It looks something like this.
Future career option 1: Linguist. Fluent in four languages, including whingese, gobbdlygook, toiletpoopoo speak, and english to an advanced level including such words as ‘excuse me’ and ‘actually’ when certain objects are fiercely desired, I have an ambition to conquer at least two further languages this month. I plan to master speaking purely in song, and alienese, where I substitute a perfectly normal word for its antithesis, such as ‘in the car’ for ‘in the cheese’, because this will be extremely amusing to my sister and unintelligible to lesser beings. If I don’t have anyone to speak to, I’ll just speak to my pencils or read a book to myself, or yell really loudly until somebody comes. Eventually I’ll learn to read like this, if mummy keeps crying or forgets to take her hands off her ears.
Future career option 2: Vogue stylist. While cutting my hair squarely across the front of my forehead may have appeared a drastic option, I knew exactly what I was doing. I am seeking a post-modern, cutting edge look. All the kids will be doing it soon. Indeed, two have since followed suit. I’ve always worn my sunglasses upside down. It’s not my problem if others are late adopters. They’ll get there. I understand that my tutu and gumboots with all my jewellery stacked may seem excessive to some, but experimentation is the making of all great artists. What can I say? I’m limited by my palette and my palette is my wardrobe. They won’t let me shop yet.
Future career option 3: International diplomat/Terrorist negotiator. The level of my commitment here depends, obviously, on whether I feel like embracing a corporate wardrobe down the track. Tonight I convinced mum to give me more food after she insisted, absolutely, that we were going to brush our teeth, after carrying me from the car after swearing, absolutely, that I had to walk. Once again I made her wipe my bottom when I am quite competent in self-wiping and flushing, but was merely feeling jaded and worn by the process. Then, after she accidentally slammed my fingers in the drawer after I required a different-coloured pair of PJ pants in order to be able to sleep, I required a different-coloured ice pack to the one she retrieved. Obviously. She just wasn’t trying hard enough. No pain, no gain, right? One day she’ll understand.
Future career option 4: Olympic gymnast/levitator – again, this depends on my level of future commitment to the rules, like gravity. I’m taking this particular ambition quite seriously, and have been in heavy training since gestation. Mum’s bladder provided an ideal first springboard, and I’ve been bouncing and moving pretty much without stopping ever since. I even fist pumped my way out of that place. YEAH. I’m a winner. There isn’t much that can’t be climbed, really, if you know what you’re doing. You just need to create the right diversion and gain yourself a quiet couple of minutes. Cots are for wimps. Sleeping? I sleep like a ninja (watch my high kicks!) but I still prefer to know mum’s got my back if I come by a particularly mean teddy in dreamland. She doesn’t mind. She doesn’t need much sleep.
Right – back to me. I stumbled across a spectacular word today: ‘acephalous’. Which is actually quite reflective of how I’m feeling today. It means ‘without a ruler or leader’. Ironically, my name, Kim, means ‘ruler’. I think this makes me a moron, of the ‘oxy’ variety – I am a headless ruler. So much for being in charge around here. Clearly today I am not. And the reason I’m feeling ‘acephalous’ today, is because little A is not yet old enough to step into the big boots of her true future profession: RULER OF THE WORLD.