|Hello, is that you Santa?|
|Written by OHmommy|
|Thursday, 18 October 2007 00:00|
When she was born, my brother took one look at her and said .... "Now, there is a middle child." My middle child is a handful. My first born is nearly perfect. My third child, the baby, is not mobile and quite content. I write about the middle one often because I need to vent and this is a great outlet. It is between writing or screaming.
CUT. CUT. CUT. More wisps fall onto the bench. She does not even look up for a minute as she feverishly cuts away the blond hair.
"Mama? I think all of the Polly Pockets need a haircut. Look this one is all done. I need to cut all of their hairs now. Can I? Can I? Here are some more, I want to cute their hairs. Can I?" She looks up at me, shows me the flipping doll and her sizzors. The nerve. The determination. The .... trouble I will have with her when she is hiking up her plaid school skirt, just like Aunt Kash did. Our eyes meet ...
I put my camera down and grabbed the phone instead. I start dialing my childhood phone number 967-6924, saying all of the numbers out loud. As I am (pretending) to wait for the other person to answer, I gently cover the mouthpiece with my hand, patiently kneel down to her eye level, and softly whisper ....
Sweet Lola you wait one minute before you cut their hair? I am trying to get a hold of SANTA CLAUS to let him know that you really don't care too much for your toys. Hello, SANTA? Santa is that you?
"AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! MAMA ..... gasp .... MOM ..... AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH .... Mama, mama, mama, that is not my choice. It is NOT MY CHOICE! Look, I love my toys." Lola hugs all twenty-two Polly Pockets.
I know it is only October - but I had to pull out the Santa card. Nevertheless, I embraced my victory.