You Don’t Understand

Written by Rowonna McNeely – On the Saturday mornings that we don’t have something planned, Aaron and I will alternate out who gets up with Kiera when she wakes up. Sometimes, I will get up with her and let him sleep, and then later in the day I take a nap.

It works well because usually she wants to watch Saturday morning cartoons and I have time to wake up before she wants to play.

Last Saturday, Kiera came in our room and woke me up. “Can I watch cartoons?” She whispered close to my ear.

I opened my eyes and tried to focus as I tossed the covers back.  “Mmhhh.” I mumbled, not quite ready to form complete sentences yet.

She bounced to the living room and climbed in her Daddy’s recliner while I stumbled behind her, still trying to focus my sleepy eyes.

I grabbed the remote and turned the television on. Without asking I flipped through the channels until I saw Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.

“Could you get my blanket and pillow?” She asked, not taking her eyes off the opening scenes of Mickey.

Finding my voice, I replied in the affirmative and stumbled to her bedroom to gather the necessary items. Once I made sure she was comfortable, I grabbed the remote, lay down on the couch and started to read a book.

I might have been lying there five minutes when Kiera piped up and said, “Mommy? You know I am six, right?”

I put my book down, not sure where this conversation was headed. “Yes…” I answered.

“Well, I think that I might be to old for Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.” She replied.

“Oh.” I stated and looked at my daughter curled up in her Daddy’s recliner. She was resting on her Trolls pillow with her Trolls blanket wrapped over her. “I see. Would you like me to turn the channel?” I asked.

“Yes, please.” She responded hugging her lovey closer to her.

From time to time to time she lets us know that she is indeed a big girl. For instance, today she tried to fix her hair by herself…in pigtails. After several attempts, she finally let me help her. I want her to be a big girl, but I’m just not sure how to handle it sometimes, especially with a child as independent and stubborn as she is.

If you don’t remember, those traits came from Aaron. Just don’t ask my parents. They might not remember me being the perfect child that I remember…moving on though!

Friday afternoon, I picked Kiera up from school. She climbed in the truck, all smiles and began to tell me about her day. As I pulled away from the curb, she said, “Oh! My bow fell out today but I found it.”

I glanced in the rear view mirror and noticed the location of the bow and that it was almost in the exact place that I had put it that morning.

“I’m glad you found it!” I exclaimed. “Who put it back in for you?”

There was a moment of silence from the back seat before she responded, “Mommy. I put it back in.”

She quietly sighed and said, “I’m not that young anymore, Mom.”

I hastily began to apologize to my offended child. “I’m sorry, baby. You did a good job putting it back in.”

“It’s ok. You don’t understand.” She answered in a reassuring tone.

I swiftly changed the subject before she had me pull over to pat me on the head.

She’s six. I have no idea how I am going to survive her teenage years.