The Hatchling has been especially dramatic lately, because, well, she’s three and all, and everything is a big deal, for better or worse. A lot of the dramatics are real, by which I mean that she’s really feeling INCREDIBLY HAPPY or INCREDIBLY ANGRY or INCREDIBLY SAD about something, but she’s also started to do faux emotions as a kind of game or to get attention. Mostly, her father and I find this annoying and/or tiring, but sometimes it gives me the giggles.
This afternoon, for example, after we’d had a semi-exhausting trip to Target (“Want to get down, Mama? Get outta cart? Get DOWN, Mama? DOWN??? Want treat? I NEEDA treat! I NEEDAWANTA TREAT!!!!!!! etc.) she had finished lunch and it was getting close to naptime.
“Are you ready for naps, Boo?” her father asked.
“Nooooooooo, no, no, no, no.” the Hatchling explained.
“Ok, well, pretty soon it’s time to go upstairs for naps.”
The Hatchling starts spiraling around the living room, faux crying/whimpering. Because she’s so tired. And sad. And forlorn. And also tired and sad. Mr. Squab decided to cut his losses and play along.
“Awwwwww, are you so sad? Ready to go night-night?”
The Hatchling looks even more pitiful. “Okay, Daddy.”
“Then go give Mama hugs and kisses.”
The Hatchling approaches me with a faraway look on her face, embraces me, kisses me, and backs away slowly, sorrowfully. “Good-bye, Mama,” she intones, waving her hand as if it takes the last bit of strength she has, finally turning to drift up the staircase. It was like fucking Camille in the final throes of galluping consumption. Christ.
We can only hope that she channels this ability to lucrative ends at some future point. God knows it hasn’t worked for me yet.