As soon as it began, the nearly three weeks of freedom have drawn to a close. Tomorrow we head back to our tiny flat, in our crowded city, back to jobs that make us want to kill. How fun for us. The long flight back to Blighty with a two year old? Also fun. This time the child has her own seat, so everything crossed she is as well-behaved on the way home as she was the way here. It's an overnight flight, so I remain ever hopeful that a long sleep will be her dearest companion. Mama wants to get her book on, watch rubbish movies, and make her way through the first Bust magazine she's read in a year.
We were meant to spend this last evening with my Dad and his girlfriend in Philly. However, when we spent a couple of days with them upon our arrival, The Dude overheard the GF say to my Dad in regard to a window-tapping P, "You have to tell her no, lord knows no one else is going to do it." I think we know what phrase immediately ran through my mind, the oft-returned to, much-loved oh no she didn't. I'd thought we did really well reigning in P in their immaculate, toyless domain, but it seems others have a different perspective on our parenting style.
For the record, we do not make an overriding use of the word "no". We want P to explore, be independent and adventurous. However, this does not mean I allow her to manhandle precious glass figurines, smack glass french doors with sticks, or rip the ears off cats. She is unfailingly polite for a two year old - she says thank you, please, and pardon. She's British for god's sake, of course she has manners! When she starts to get frantic over small matters, I have even taught her to calm down and say, "be patient" to herself. I know as her mother I am inclined to think she is perhaps better behaved or more intelligent than others may perceive her to be, but conversely I also know P is fully capable of being a complete asshole and I think I would have realised this had she truly been naughty.
We weren't going to tell my Mom what was said, since she still has unresolved issues regarding my Dad despite the fact that their unhappy marriage ended about 15 years ago. There is no love lost between my Mom and the GF either, so that certainly compounds the situation. My brother, who chronically has one or both feet firmly and entirely in his mouth, alluded to it soon after we got here. I told my Mom what was said, and her reaction was to stop pushing her cart in the middle of Wegmans to loudly pronounce, "Who the FUCK does she think she is?" See readers, this is the origin of my foul mouth! Blame my Mom. Oh, and Molly.
As I am facing a long 36-48 hours, I suppose I should step away from the laptop and an old episode of Cold Case on TNT. Godspeed to me, again.