“Hey, Mummy! Look, it’s a sweetheart!” she says to me while pointing at a little girl in a pink dress in the store. She takes after me, she uses the words and phrases that I use.
Frustrated after a failed attempt at some task, she heaves a sigh much heavier than her small body should, in perfect imitation of me.
She has my look, too. There is no denying our relation.
For the most part, I can see the positive in her, the parts of me that I don’t mind so much to see in her. Though our shared stubbornness seems to cause us to butt heads on no less than a few occasions.
No one ever promised that parenting would be easy, and I would be a fool if I ever believed it. But there are certainly days where things just fall into place so naturally, without screaming or shouting or tantrums. Days where she listens and helps as much as she is able. Days where we play games and laugh and have fun.
Though the flip side of the coin are the days where everything is a battle. Even giving her what she asked for (as long as she used her manners, that is) can result in a fit. She misunderstands me or mistakes a yes for a no and off she goes.
But I’m doing my best, and she’s learning so much. In the last few days, she’s been quoting much of Galatians 5:22 and 23. She loves the printouts that we posted everywhere. And when Daddy came home briefly, one of the first things she did was show him the one on the fridge. Later, she surprised me by doing a call and response. She knows the words in the right order.
That sort of thing gives me hope that she’s ok. Despite my failures as a parent, my lack of patience some days especially, she’s alright.
