This post was meant to be be written and published on the 22nd May, but, hey, you heard the excuses before.
– Mum, can I have red hair?
– Uh. I suppose you can, when you grow older.
– Like, when I’m five?
– No, much older than that. But why red hair?
– I want to be like Ariel. And Jodi
Jodi is one of the teachers in her nursery and one of these days she came to me to say how proud she was because Laura said she wants to be just like Jodi when she grows up. I used to love the idea of having red hair when I was younger, but I was a teenager, not 4!
I am not the type of mother that think her kids are the most intelligent, beautiful of all. I actually think that Laura is pretty average in terms of intelligence – not a genius, but not slow either. And I’m quite happy about it. And, yes, I think she is beautiful, in her own way. A beautiful mixture of indigenous Brazilian and Eastern European. I love her smile, her eyes and her hair. I love her feet, her hands, her legs, her clumsy ballet movements. I love her mind, her personality (well… do I? Let me think… hehe).
There are a couple of things that drive me mad – the change of mood within seconds and the tantrums for no good reason (happy with tantrums that make sense). Unfortunately the tantrums are almost on a daily basis. Fortunately, it seems that she is getting more mature and can get out of them quicker than a couple of months ago.
She is a mini adult – the way she talks to us, clearly inspired by how the teachers talk to her at school, would be perfectly normal if coming from a 15 years old or a young adult, but hearing that tiny person looking at us very serious and asking “where are the bowls I left in the kitchen before I went to school? Who told you to put them away?” is hilarious.
She has finally got to that stage where she can play happily on her own. I love to watch from the distance, but it is also great to have a quick break. Not sure if it is something of this age or if it is her personality, but she is not a big fan of staying on her own/alone though. Not only when it comes to playing, but mainly when it comes to sleeping. We are trying to get her to sleep in her bedroom, but she just won’t take it. Last time I asked, she said she was afraid of the dark and of being alone (so, alone in her bedroom with the lights on is not an option for her).
If she is in a good mood, she lets Beatrice do whatever she wants to her. When Bea scratched Laura and I told her off, Laura said “it’s ok, mummy, she is just a baby and didn’t mean to; it doesn’t matter”.
She is being tested for asthma and seems to be responding well to the inhaler. I wasn’t so keen on it, as it has steroids (small doses, but still…), but she is so much better now. I could try a more natural option (what? what?) but she is such a pain when it comes to putting anything in her nose/mouth.
– My mum locks me in a tower and she never lets me out.
– Really?? Why would she do that?
– Because she is mean. I only leave the room to work.
– How come you are here, then?
– Oh, I found a key and escaped. But she will come back and lock me again.
– Mummy, I’m Elsa.
– No, you are not.
– I AM. DON’T YOU DARE SAY I AM NOT. YOU DON’T SAY THAT. THAT IS SO RUDE!
– You can’t be Elsa. You are not blonde.
– I AM ELSA, I AM BLONDE. (and crying a river)
She is so into Princesses, and loves Frozen to bits. She knows how to sing “Let it go” from start to finish and knows the choreography. She kisses stuff pretending they are frogs. She always asks to have her hair done like TV/film characters: two plaits like Lalaloopsy or Anna from Frozen; one like Elsa. One pony tail like Barbie; two, like whoever.
The other day she told me she liked Ben 10 and Spiderman.
She likes to put on shows and perform ballet movements and she isn’t shy in public. She danced ballet in the middle of the Our Lady church in Bruges and even had a few people asking to take pictures.
She won’t go to sleep without a bedtime story. Or three. She also likes when we create our own bedtime story.
She likes when we sing for her and when we make up songs. Especially when they have her name in it.
When I drop her off at nursery, she is always shy and doesn’t want to stay. Apparently it lasts for 30 seconds after I leave her there.
She still speaks Portuguese, but she is loosing it a bit. I need to find playgroups with Brazilian kids and parents urgently!
One great thing about kids this age is that the more ridiculous their parents are, the better. And I am making the most of it before her teens.