Saturday, August 21, 2010

I Meant What I Said and I Said What I Meant

I warned her. I mean, for almost two years, I've been warning my sister. But did she listen? Even though I gave the most faithful advice (100 percent)? No, sirree, she did not.

See, I know a thing or two about kids. I know that from about 18 months until age four, these little beings have the amazing ability to commit the most contradictory acts known to man. Let's take the matter of their attention spans. You present them with the most fantastic set of sticky, glittery, multicolored paints they've ever seen and they will happily immerse themselves in a painting project for approximately 47 seconds before they jump up, announce their sudden displeasure, and run to the next best thing. Yet the shredded, nearly non-existent plastic tampon wrapper they find in your purse will become an object of utter obsession, one that will lead them to grasp tightly in their sweaty little hands, further tear, twist around their fingers, hold up to the light as if a prism, crumple and deposit into an ear, and/or carry around like a new pet for hours and hours on end.

My point is, you never know which way they're going to go.

However, after this very unfortunate experience with a little one I used to care for, I knew that my niece could also very well go down the path of obsession if exposed. So a few months ago when my sister informed me that she had purchased The Sound of Music, I shot her the look of death.

"You...be...careful...with...that," I said, reminding her once again of little Ethan.

"I know, I know," she laughed. "I'm not going to show it to her yet."

Then the other night just as I was wrapping up my babysitting duty, my sister entered the room and said to us, "I have a surprise for you. Actually for both of you."

She led us to the TV and before I knew it, for the first time in her life, my niece was watching the infamous marionette scene while I wondered if this could possibly be the hundredth for me.

And guess what? My little niece sat there, mesmerized. Mouth open. Surprise, surprise. And as soon as it was over?

"Again!" she squealed. I shook my head at my sister and proceeded to bury my head in the couch cushions. When they started a third round, I got up and stomped away. "I'm outta here!"

Yeah, my sister thinks it's fun at the moment. Nostalgic, too. And holy cow, we didn't realize as kids how dashing Christopher Plummer was. Wowee! But she still doesn't realize what she is in for. Luckily, as the auntie that flits in and out, I get to use my whole, "Oh, honey, I'm sorry. Auntie doesn't know how to use this darn DVD thingamajig!" excuse. But my sister? I think even dashing Christopher Plummer might lose his magic. Good luck, sis!

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Wow that’s disgusting and scary. I would never let a young child get a hold of, let alone rummage through my purse. The average purse is full of toddler hazards. But playing with a tampon wrapper? Either this is from personnel experience or a pathetic attempt at humor. Hopefully the latter as it’s less negligent, but still very sad indeed.

Anonymous said...

That's great! Lol, they always know the most appropriate things to go for. Reminds me: not too long ago, I threw a rooftop party, and it started to rain, so all at once, everyone walked into my place to find my kitty recreating a snow storm as he shredded an entire box of tampons! [blush]
I think I just got inspired for my next painting :)

Anonymous said...

Perhaps Anonymous comment #1 ought to find a more appropriate place to store their hazardous materials.
purse [purs]: a small bag, pouch, or case for carrying money (and an occasional tampon)

Kirsten Jennifer Peters said...

Hey there anonymous #1. Yeah, you, the one who posted at 9:36 a.m. on August 23. Your comment annoys me because it's a) needlessly negative and b) directed at a very sweet individual who takes wonderful care of children.

Save your speeches on the legal theory of negligence for the courtroom.

Oh, and I think you mean to say personal, not personnel.