The usually delightful Dood, now 9, has been testing us of late. Perhaps some of it is because Blue has been less of a handful, and his lack is her gain. Like A. A. Milne’s Good Bear and Bad Bear (Twice Times), they lurch alternately into each other’s void. It certainly doesn’t help that Doodie has been eating as much of the worst load of sugar soaked crap she can find to snack on and refusing to eat at mealtimes, then refusing to go to bed and not sleeping enough.
This afternoon, she was understandably disappointed when I picked her up from school and told her that she had to come home to see our latest visitor from Social Services rather than play with her friend Strawberry as arranged. OK, if I’m honest, she was purple with rage and had a complete blow out in the playground – think 3 year old rather than 9 – even when Strawberry’s mum offered to have her tomorrow instead. So livid that she hit me, scratched me, bit me and pinched my hand till it bled, in front of parents, staff, neighbours, children, whoever, screaming all the while my heinous crimes against her. Some mums even tried to intervene and she viciously rounded on them to say that it was none of their bloody business!
She did calm down a bit when a couple of her favourite TAs came over (separately, 10 minutes apart) but started up again as soon as they’d disappeared; she did not even start to forgive me until said Social Worker actually arrived, when she was fine for an hour or so. At that point she cheekily came into the kitchen and said it was all ok now because she really liked this one.
In the meantime, Blue (a very different kettle of fish) had been looking for somewhere to hide the empty beer can that the Wave had left on the mantelpiece, just in case the Social Worker thought he was a bad parent and took Blue away….
The Dood was back to her belligerent best as soon as the SW had departed and it was once again tricky to get her into bed. The boy meanwhile is reading, sleeping, doing his maths, eating all his food and taking his turn as an angel.
Do I prefer her openly dealt bruises to his covert home-onlys? Is this role reversal a sign of things to come? Who knows – but I sure as hell wouldn’t choose today again in a hurry.