I read somewhere that all two year old are psychopaths. They
don’t know how to love, they are entirely “me” based, they lie, they don’t feel
guilt or remorse, and they commit crimes for no apparent reason. This idea was
so foreign to me. My first born child was sweet, empathetic, and completely
enthralled with the world around him and the people in it. Never once did I
worry that I might find him killing puppies in his teenage years. Oh but my
daughter – the middle child – she makes me wonder…
Recently I found Eden sitting atop our sofa, nonchalantly
watching a television show, with a crying lump underneath her. Her baby brother
had slipped himself under a couch cushion and she had decided this opportunity
was too good to pass up. So she sat her 35 lb. frame upon his squirming, hidden
body and despite his cries of pain, claustrophobic panic, and probable
impending suffocation, she didn’t relent. I freed my youngest son from his
makeshift, cushion coffin and promptly put her into a timeout (vowing to myself
never to leave her alone with another child again – I’m now pooping with the
door wide open). She took her punishment without tears or anger and sat quietly
staring off into space with a queer, creepy smile upon her face…
Her acts of random violence and attempts at innocent murder
are enough to put my teeth on edge. I just don’t know what to expect out of
her. I obviously can’t trust her, and I
could never count on her conscience to steer her in the right moral direction
(you know, seeing how she doesn’t have one); so how should one raise a
psychopath properly? Is there a formula I’m missing that will turn her from an
amoral asshole into a conscientious sweetheart?
Truth be told I’m afraid, nay paranoid, that she may never outgrow
her insanity. Already my youngest child
is showing more concern about people and life in general than she is. Why are
my boys able to love and appreciate others (me) and she fails so miserably at it? Don’t get me wrong, I love all my kids, I just had this
illogical belief they would love me back…
I had high hopes for
my life with a daughter - girly stupid things that just the two of us could do together.
Instead I have a little girl who
brutalizes her Barbie’s, uses her dolls as Weapons of Mass Destruction, and
would prefer to shop for Transformers… I truly don’t mind that she’s a tomboy…I
just wish she could be more like Justin Bieber than Charles Manson.
5 comments:
Great writing as always. I admire my granddaughter. I see a strength in her much like her mother.
"Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go"
T. S. Eliot
Oh my. I learned the hard way from my siblings to always be careful of those middle children. That's part of the reason I didn't have one.
Although, in retrospect, I'm married to one. hmm...
In our house the battles between Mom & daughter have always, ALWAYS, been the most epic ones in the family. 1st born, 2nd born, 3rd born, it doesn't matter. Four X chromosomes in close proximity means trouble.
Trust me, it will all be worth it that first time she calls you in tears at age 20 to tell you what a wonderful mother you were, and how she feels terrible about how she treated you. At least that's what I tell my wife, and it'll be another 8 years before she figures out I'm just making this up.
Me too Tom, my brother was a jerk face.
Gotta say though, you aren't making me feel better...I'm now going to dread the next 18 years of her life, so thanks for that.
:)
My oldest son was like this, while my youngest wasn't. For Child 1, I watched Silence of the Lambs a few times, and just treated him like Hannibal Lecter.
It worked... but he still has that glint in his eyes whenever there's Chianti at the dinner table...
As long as your oldest isn't eating your youngest's brains I think you can call yourself a successful parent!
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