Honestly, my daughter is a study in contrast. Sometimes, I don't like her very much, and the feeling is mutual. Fortunately, those times aren't too often. But on the occasions when she's decided she doesn't like me very much, I generally haven't done anything to deserve her ire, and it really breaks my heart a bit.
Take last Saturday for example. We had to get up early (ugh) because DD had a swimming lesson. After swimming, we'd planned to go to an Easter extravaganza -- craft/play activities, moon walk, etc. followed by an Easter egg hunt. DD was standing near me while I ironed her shirt, which she'd chosen, and out of the blue, she said, "I hope you get burned, mommy." WTF? Really, WTF? I asked her what she said, because I couldn't believe what I was hearing, but she repeated it. I'd heard correctly. I told her that wasn't a nice thing to say, but I couldn't mentally let it go.
I've mentioned that I'd bought a cookie for her last Thursday to try to encourage some good behavior. She didn't get the cookie on Thursday evening, because she got into a cat fight with another girl at school right in front of me while I was there to pick her up. On Friday, her teacher reported that the DD and the same girl were going at each other all day. Now, mind you, DD usually plays with this other girl all the time, even though she complains about her regularly at home. In any event, she wasn't allowed to eat her cookie on Friday, either.
On Saturday, after the swimming lesson and the Easter extravaganza, DD asked for her cookie. I asked her if she really thought she deserved it, did she really think that she'd been good? She looked down and said, "no, mommy." When I asked why she thought she'd not been good, she said "because I said I hoped you'd get burned." That was kind of a relief, because at least she realized how awful that was to say. But then I asked her why she said it, and she said "because I wanted you to leave from upstairs." Nice kid, eh?
But, in a flash, I remembered another little girl. One who wasn't very nice either. In fact, one who was much worse, I think. It was me, and I was probably DD's age (three and a half), or maybe a little older. I remembered feeling really angry at my mother, and I told her "I wish you were dead." Can you believe it? I actually said that. In my defense, I was clueless about what that really meant, though I did know that I was saying something unkind. What an awful thing to say.
My mother didn't say a word. She waited until I wandered off into another room, and then she hid herself. To this day, I don't know where. But I do remember that at some point, I went looking for her. And I couldn't find her anywhere. I started to panic, and I called for her. The next thing I knew, she was back. And she asked me why I was so upset. I told her that it was because I couldn't find her, and she reminded me that I'd wished she was dead -- when people are dead, they go away. That made me upset, and I told her that I didn't want her to go away and that I was sorry that I'd said that. My mother said that God had heard me, and He sent her back to me (now, that was being a bit of a ham, but whatever). I never, ever forgot that.
Since my mom has died, I often wonder if she's still around me. It certainly felt that way when DD acted so mean toward me -- that experience just flashed right into my head in an "aha" kind of moment. And I realized that while this was really unkind behavior, it probably isn't all that unusual. It's just another teaching moment, I guess.
But I did say that DD is a bit of a paradox, didn't I? Yesterday, I went upstairs to wake her up for the day, as I always do during the week. DD reached out for me, and wished me a good morning. Warm from sleep, she melted into my neck. I asked her, as I always do, if she'd had a good night. She told me she did. And then I asked her, as I always do, if she'd had any dreams. She said she had -- "I dreamed about you mommy, only you." Really, I asked, what were we doing? "Hugs and kisses, mommy, hugs and kisses." And then she pulled herself closer and gave me a kiss.
Ah. Now that was much better.