The shoes. MIL and GMIL have an ongoing obsession with Twinklette's shoe size. They are always concerned that her shoes are too small, even though Twinklette will let you know in no uncertain terms if they're uncomfortable. So MIL just bought Twinklette a very cute but incredibly large pair of baby pink summer patent leathers. She'll be lucky to grow into these sons-of-b*tches by Halloween. There's literally an inch between the end of her toes and the edge of the shoes, and you can actually see the gap between her heel and the back of the shoe when she walks. And yet, she had to try them on tonight in front of GMIL, former children's shoe "expert" at Bacons, who proclaimed them to be a perfect fit. MIL had to reiterate (as she does every time I see her) that the shoes are two sizes larger than the identical black ones Twinklette owns--as if to say I need to retire the black ones because they're way too small. (I'm about to retire the black ones because of the change in seasons...but they still fit perfectly fine).
Preschool. GMIL: "She's really had an easy transition into preschool, hasn't she?" My thoughts: "Yes, it's only taken her four-and-a-half months not to weep uncontrollably and drag herself at my feet every day when I drop her off."
T-ball. MIL and GMIL are obsessed with girls t-ball, because SIL played t-ball and later softball. So tonight it came up that Twinklette does not own any t-ball paraphernalia. And I really don't care if they buy it for her--I also don't mind buying it myself, as I have nothing against t-ball. I do, however, have something against the idea that Twinklette has to be a mini-clone of my sister-in-law. I have something against the idea that t-ball is an inevitable part of Twinklette's future--akin to a college education--and that she doesn't have a choice about it (and the tacit implication that I'm somehow slacking off because she doesn't already own a t-ball set).
After dinner hug. Twinklette asked to be excused after dinner and immediately said, "I want you, Mommy," so I picked her up and she snuggled into my lap at the table. Once again unable to fathom that my child might just want a good snuggle, GMIL proclaimed, "She's tired. Didn't she get a good nap today?" She slept from 12:30 to 3:40...I'd say that qualifies as a good nap, so I'm guessing Twinklette really did just want a little love from her mama. Unbelievable, isn't it?
The Slamming of the Door. MIL and GMIL didn't notice the three times tonight (or the countless times, ever) that Twinklette said, "I want you, Mommy," or when we were spelling Twinklette's name with the letters on the fridge and Twinklette wanted to spell "Mommy," too. But when Twinklette slammed the kitchen door in my face and yelled, "See you later!" MIL could hardly contain her glee. She giddily exclaimed to GMIL and Mr. Twinkle, "Did you see that?" I followed her in there and to hang out in the peace and quiet of the living room, where we sang songs, jumped up and down, and had a generally marvelous time without the pressure or judgment from everyone. So she wasn't even slamming the door in my face to get away from me...she was just being a silly 2-year-old. I'm sure MIL will be talking about the simply hilarious door slam for the next month and a half.
The gleeful reaction to the door slamming is the part that bothers me the most. Even if your child WERE trying to reject you, I really don't understand why she should see this as a good thing. I have to ask: Does Mr. Twinks comment on this attitude to his family? Does he not notice it, or ignore it?
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Mr. Twinkle was reading the paper when all this went down, and conveniently claims he doesn't remember the exchange. He basically thinks I'm reading way too much into it...but boys never really perceive all the verbal/tonal nuances that girls do, so explaining it to him is impossible.
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