We Have a Hit on Our Hands

Well, it was bound to happen. We produced our first offspring, a cautious, thoughtful and deep-thinking soul who, at 13, continues to be thus. Our penultimate was more of a risk-taker who would leap off furniture, usually onto her thoughtful, deep-thinking sibling; was running at 9 months and taking charge at 2 but who was funny and bright and very happy. She, too, continues in that mold. This leads us to the third in line to the throne who is more 2 than the other two ever were; who challenges everything by screaming like a banshee in your face then spins on a dime to laugh and say, "Hi, Mommy. I Mommy's Babe," or "I Mommy's Brigid." The third child who loves "Pusah" (her new word for Patricia) more than life itself but continually pounds on her; the child for whom a "time out" is merely a break in the action until she can once again come at life full force with both fists. Literally and figuratively. Yes, dear readers, we have produced a hitter. This kid hits when she's happy; she hits when she's sad; she hits when she's tired; and she hits when she's mad. All I have to say is, "Go to your chair" and she heads in to her room and climbs on up. To her credit, she sits there in a time out without so much as a protest for the most part until I come to release her, like releasing a dog from a down-stay command. She seems contrite and offers a hug, yet her recidivism rate is very, very high.

It's something they're addressing with her in day care as well. However, it's not as bad as the serial biter they have. Brigid was again the target of his dental fixation. For the third time since March I've picked her up with the perfectly formed outline of human teeth, uppers and lowers, on her body. This time, he bit her by the crook of her elbow; one time, she had a bite on her back; the first time -- her first day of school -- he bit her on the upper arm. They fill out incident reports. Today they said they've addressed it with his parents, but that doesn't stop the kid from biting. I've witnessed him do it twice to other kids in the last week. He's a menace, and I don't know if they boot a kid out of the wobbler room for biting, but I'd like to fit him with a mouth guard.

Today, Margaret and Patricia had their musical theater performance, the last day of their summer musical theater program. They did the musical, "Once on this Island," and they were fantastic. Disappointedly, they were chorus members, but they had such fun, the chorus numbers were great, and the dancing was outstanding. I was so proud of them. It is such a wonderful program. They participated last summer, for those of you who remember, having done "Seussical the Musical Jr." Patricia's fourth-grade teacher and his wife, also a fourth-grade teacher, do the program each year. The performance topped off three weeks of learning the parts, songs and very complicated dance numbers.

Now that their theatrical experience has come to an end, it's time for us to pack up and head to the Cape via White River Junction, Vt., where we'll visit with my college friend, Kathleen, and her family before heading out the rest of the way for the rest of the week. I have one more day of work before I can breathe a sigh of long-awaited relief. It can't come too soon, but, I'm afraid, will end all too soon.