How is that possible you may ask? An 8 year old? Maybe a ten or twelve, but not an eight year old. Well, I go by the definition that a teen ager, besides being in their teens a) likes to do things on their own without the responsibility that comes with doing things on your own and b) dislikes what their Fathers say and do and tries to disassociate themselves from their Fathers who tell way bad jokes, are old stinky farts (no matter if he is 30 or 50) and embarrass them in front of their friends.
Let me explain and you be the judge.
Earlier this week stemming from an incident last week (which I will be writing about soon), my daughter started going to school by herself. We thought we would start in the new year, but we didn't right away, then my wife decided rather abruptly in a fit of misplaced anger that our daughter would go to school on her own. I was rather taken aback and scared at the prospect. I still thought we should wait till she reached 4th grade or even till she was ten years old. I thought 8 years in a post Etan Patz world is still a bit young. But my daughter grabbed the opportunity and demanded to go by herself. She didn't even want me stalk.. uh shadowing her twenty yards or meters behind. She would go by herself. Completely.
I found this a bit unnerving, also because she demanded it. She demanded to go by herself! She yelled AT ME when I started putting on my coat over my Homer Simpson pyjamas to go with her. It Sounds like she is going to demand to drive the car by herself when she is older too (good thing I dont own a car). Or is she going to demand we leave the house so she can have sex with her boyfriend too (not now, I mean several decades in the future, silly) ?
In my opinion she was demanding to do it on her own without FULLY understanding the minute, fine points of reading cars and learning where and when to cross the street. True I had been teaching her this for two years now, but this is a very intricate knowledge which can only be understood by over 40 year olds, ergo Hugo I should still walk her to school.
Didn't happen. She won out. The 8 year old won the disagreement.
And a small note, in the morning when I was brushing her teeth, she said I was totally smelly and she had to hold her nose while I was brushing. That was unfair, I had only been wearing those pajamas a week and I had only had a couple sweat dripping dreams of killing Frankenstein (actually Herman Munster of the Adams Family) and yelling at people, nothing unusual like my waking up screaming dreams or waking up pounding on the wall. Had I become an old stinky fart Grandpa for her already? Unfair. Untrue. Foul I yell.
I took a long bath and washed my hair just in case. Maybe I shouldn't eat those onion and cheese sandwiches before bedtime though.
But the real clincher came that evening around bedtime.
My younger daughter asked to watch one cartoon of "Martha Speaks" before bed. Since it is a PBS kids good programming with word education I rather like it when they watch this show. Better than Barbie (r)(c)(Mattel). So we watched two shows and it was after 9pm when they finished and they had to get in bed quickly. Their regular late bedtime is 9pm.
My older daughter started to read and that got me angry. Reading got me angry? No no, it got me angry that it was after 9pm and we had watched TV and NOW she was going to read. I said, "you cant read now, it is bed time." She refused to stop and demanded to read. I said, "Look if you wanted to read you shouldn't have watched Martha Speaks about the talking dog." "Daddy is right," said my youngest daughter. But my older daughter persisted in reading and I turned out the light. But she continued to read because the night light was on. I repeated that she should have read earlier and not watched TV. I turned it out and made it completely dark and she got ALL angry and started yelling at me.
I thought that was unfair. Didn't she see the sense of it? SORREE, but you have to go to bed and you cant read now. You chose TV earlier. Cant choose reading now.
But the logic escaped her and she turned away from me and wouldn't let me hold her hand before falling asleep or even let me kiss her good night. "Go hold my sisters hand," she yelled.
It really wasn't fair. I was devastated. But there you have it. She wanted to do her thing AND do her thing, watch TV and then read. And on top of it all, I was the evil one. Well, hate the police and hate Daddy too. I am the baddy. And thus did my 8 year old daughter turn into a proto teenager hating her Father for turning out the light and not letting her read and making her go to sleep.
Look, I don't drink alcohol and I definitely don't believe in drowning out your sorrows or problems in liquor. It usually makes the sorrow and problems worse. HOWEVER, at this moment I was not averse to trying to lift my spirits with my little cat nip of Irish Cream in hot milk. Pictured here.
Epilogue: I had finished the milk with my cat nip and in the morning my girls were all angry there was no milk so they couldn't have a morning cocoa. They started putting the puzzle together and said, Daddy drank it, he always eats our stuff or drinks our drinks. Bad Daddy. I had just wanted a bit of nice friendly hot milk to cheer me up.
Jeez, hated Daddy. Not looking forward to teenagers in the house.
