My youngest redhead, at the age of 7, says she wants to be an actress. She’s getting a pretty good start, I have to say. I should consider myself extremely fortunate to have witnessed one possible award winning performance, not even a week ago. It wasn’t her first and I am sure it won’t be the last. It was one of those moments during which I could barely contain my amusement (as well as a myriad of other emotions) as she ranted and raved. Quite loudly.
We were on the way to an appointment one evening, after a fun day at a friend’s house. Both girls were absorbed in their favorite activity, fighting. My little one decided it might be a good idea to smack her big sister with her car pillow. It didn’t really have the desired effect. After the inevitable warning, the pillow must have slipped out of her hands and onto her sisters head again, so it ended up in the front seat with me. I quickly was made aware of her disappointment Many of you may know that 7-year-old girls have the ability to reach a decibel level that melts glass.
After 5 minutes in the car, which seemed like 5 days with all of the shrieking, we arrived at our destination. My oldest wisely slipped out of the car and made herself scarce while I prepared to enter into battle. It took a good 10 minutes to pry my little one’s hands from the seat and get her out of the car. After that I locked the doors since she was attempting to sneak back in. Another 10 minutes at least passed with her clinging to the side of the car, action movie style, screaming to all the world that her poor pillow was slowly suffocating and would die if left unattended. I’m not very sure where she got this information, but she was adamant that the pillow not be harmed. I tried explaining that the pillow would be fine because there was enough air in the car for a pillow with no lungs. That didn’t sway her; she carried on for several more minutes as I tried to hide my amusement and embarrassment. People started watching, which I guess is good news for a budding actress.
Finally, I half convinced and half dragged her into the office, whereupon she took it upon herself to display all of the tactics she had picked up in her seven years to to make the next forty minutes extremely uncomfortable and quite loud (not melting glass level fortunately).
I breathed a sigh of relief when we left the office. The drive back was almost as bad since the pillow was still sharing the front seat, but there was a tender reunion once my daughter finally got it back.