The problem with eight-year-old girls
September 15th, 2010
Still no baby. Although now we’re actually crossing our fingers that he holds our for another day, due to the fact that Josh is supposed to be doing a funeral for a beloved church member tomorrow at 11am…
In the meantime, this afternoon, my folks and I took Miss Mouse to a nearby park with an awesome set of playground equipment. She was in heaven — trying the slides, swinging on the swings, and running happily across small bridges.
There was only one small dark spot on the day. I always used to think that the worst thing on a playground was a five-year-old boy. They tend to be wild and rowdy and knock over my wee girl. But I learned today that there is, in fact, a more fearsome creature: an eight-year-old girl. Particularly an unsupervised eight-year-old girl.
The problem with this particular manifestation of childhood is that they have strong maternal instincts but absolutely no credibility in that field. Thus, the girl in question wanted nothing more in life than to lavish attention on Miss Mouse. She wanted to push her on the swing, pick her up, set her on her lap as they went down the slide, hold her hand, etc.
There were two problems with this scenario, though. Number one, I didn’t know this kid and had no intention of letting her pick up my two-year-old. Sorry, sister. And number two — she terrified Miss Mouse. The over-exuberant attention from a strange person was way more than my girl was equipped for and she eventually started running away when she saw the girl coming…
…which her tormentor then interpreted as a new game: tag. So she began to chase Miss Mouse, shrieking “I’m gonna get you” until my daughter burst into tears. At which point I had to firmly intervene and tell the erstwhile love-bully once and for all to keep away from my kid. She seemed pretty hurt and spent the next 15 minutes sulking in a corner of the playground, but she left me no choice. I’ve got to defend my young!