sassy monkey

OK. So I think that I may win the daily award for Questionable Parenting Tactics. Last night, this gorgeous blue-eyed, blond-haired, five year old girl gave the performance of a life time.
Let me set the scene:
It was a warm, sunny summer's evening. The bird's were singing. The dog was sleeping in the kitchen. Daddyman and I were sitting at the big comfy dining room table have an ice cold beer and a happy little chat. From out of thin air, Noni slammed into the room and without a moment's hesitation, she announced her demands. I don't think I even heard what she wanted, and honesty, it doesn't really matter.
What happened then was this:
She had no intention of waiting for our response. She launched into what could best be called a teenage tantrum.
And I quote: You guys never listen to ME. Nobody in this house listens to ME. Nobody in this house loves me, I can tell. If you did love me, you'd listen to me. But NOBODY LISTENS TO ME. I hate you. I hate everyone in this house. You're all stupid!
Of course, the words themselves are not what will win her the Oscar. Anyone will tell you that the script is completely overused and somewhat manipulative. No, it was the dramatic stomping of the feet and flicking of the hair and squeezing out of real tears that will win the award.
This little tornado of emotions spun into the dining room and upturned her parents and bounced up the stairs and hurtled herself into her room and threw herself on the bed - missed the bed and landed on the floor, thus proving that "see, nobody loves me or I wouldn't have fallen off the bed. Stupid bed. It's all your fault, Via."
All Daddyman and I could do was sit with our mouths wide open, and when the storm had passed (This is the questionable parenting moment for those of you keeping track) We applauded.
We had to. It was a magnificent performance given by a 5 year old playing the part of an angsty teenage girl. We clapped and clapped and then chuckled a little to ourselves.
We assumed that the storm had passed, and we could finish our chat.
However, as the applause was dying down, who should appear in the dinning room but the sassy starlet herself - completely composed. Hair tidy. Not even the slightest trace of a tear.
"Yes? You wanted me?" (Note the slightly chipper tone in her voice.)
"What a wonderful performance you just gave."
"Oh, I thought that you wanted me to come back. Weren't you just clapping? I can do it again if you'd like...?"

The potential for this tropical storm to gain strength through adolescence is enormous, inevitably destroying all that dare to place themselves in her path. The potential for damage that is massive. I think that we will have a family action plan in place should the need arise. And we will rehearse it so everyone knows exactly what to do to keep themselves out of harms way - like a fire drill. From this day forward, we will all wear inflatable life jackets - the kind you get on the airlines, pull the chord and the vest fills with air - just in case it gets too deep in here to dig ourselves out. We will have a safe place to meet outside our homes if we have to all flee the danger. We will even practice the old nuclear bomb method of protection - duck and cover.
"Via! Yaya! She's coming! Everyone - on the floor. Duck and cover, girls. DUCK. AND. COVER!"

Preparation = good parenting, right?

My mother says that I am getting exactly what I deserve.
Maybe she just wasn't prepared.