Feisty Repartee

Dammit

I am fortunate to have two daughters. They are both bright and beautiful. The older one is eleven and has a sweet, even tempered personality that strives to please. The Wee One is three going on twenty-five. The only master she serves is her own whim and fancy. With little more than sheer will, Wee One can hold her own even when faced with my formidible ire.

Earlier, Wee One asked her older sister to get her something to drink out of the refrigerator. Apparently, Sweet One was not moving fast enough to suit the Wee One. Before I could intervene, Wee One punched her older sister and told her: "Now, dammit!"

In my book, that's not ONE, but TWO infractions for a Wee One! The child was immediately chastised and informed (through gritted teeth) that WE do not hit one another and children do not use bad words. Her only response as she glared back at me: "Dammit."

For those who are counting, that was infraction number THREE. Action was required. I picked her up, walked to her bedroom, deposited her on her bed, and despite my earlier admonition (there is a difference between hitting and spanking), I gave her three pops on the behind and told her she was in time out. For fear of triggering a fourth infraction (Wee One can slam a door), I gently closed her door and left her to calm down, as I tried to do the same.

Within minutes, I heard the door open and a face with an angelic smile peeped around a corner at me. When she saw I had seen her, she walked over to me and said in her melodic, sing-song little voice: "I love you, Mommy."

After I pulled her into my lap, I talked to her about being nice to her sister, not hitting her sister or anyone else, and not using bad words. At the last, she looked up at me and with all seriousness told me: "But, I like saying dammit, Mommy."

Apparently, so do I.

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