It has been amusing us that, since our daughter started to speak, we have been given small glimpses into the inner workings of her mind. She has no grasp of tact, nor the subtle rules and unwritten mores of society. Trying to teach them to her is a bit like teaching a fish to ride a bicycle: it won’t thank you for it; it has no use for it; and everyone wonders why you are bothering.
I have some examples of what I mean.
1. Recently my parents in law came to visit. They adore my daughter (I’ve yet to find anyone who doesn’t) and, to my great relief, are willing to look after her for some time whilst they are here, so myself and my husband get a much-needed break. At the time of this instance, my fae had corralled both her grandparents onto her bed (whether they wanted to be there or not) to watch something on her iPad. In her mind a disaster occurred – the iPad was locked; so she did what she always does when she encounters a disaster:
“MUMMY!!!!” The scream was loud enough to resonate around the house and deafen her grandfather. Her grandmother took the time to kindly explain that this was not the correct response, that she shouldn’t shout but should go find mummy, and ask nicely for what she wanted. My daughter thought for a moment, dismissed the idea completely, and firmly informed her grandmother “No. Shout.” Before screaming “MUMMMMMMMYYYYYYY!” again.
To be fair, it is more efficient.
2. At the weekend, we take her to an activities centre set up specifically for neurodivergent children, adolescents and their siblings. She has a close friend there, who for the sake of this story we will refer to as Mary. Mary and my daughter will always greet each other with big hugs, run off and start an activity together, and for the next two hours they tend to ‘happen’ to each other at various points in the centre: it’s a bit like Brownian motion, some times they are together, sometimes in completely different areas, but they always end up together in outdoor play. Last Saturday, they were in the sandpit near the end of the session. My daughter was on a static excavation/digger contraption when Mary darted into the hole she was making. With a huff she once again shouted “Mary, move!”. When I attempted to correct her (I’m trying to get her to remember her manners) and pointed out ‘we don’t say it like that’ she did, to her credit, immediately try again. With “Move, Mary!”
Through fits of giggles, I did point out we don’t ask like that either. The look I got clearly expressed that there were only two words, so how many more ways were there? Fortunately, at that point, Mary decided to get out the hole on her own, having been oblivious to the entire conversation; but that’s neurodivergent kids for you.
3. There are times at the weekend when, for the sake of his sanity, we try to get the fae father to go away for an hour or so, to have a little bit of time for himself. This weekend, when he came back, myself and fae were in the garden planting seeds. She took one look at him, and immediately ordered him to leave, as it was ‘fae – mummy time’. She has also been known to insist that he go back upstairs to his office (get back in your box!) so she can have an “upstairs cuddle” regardless of what he may be doing at the time.
I have also been told that I put sugar on her porridge wrong, and I’m to sit at a specific point at the table.
This can’t be just my fae, and as this blog is really feeling like shouting into the void, I would really like to hear any funny anecdotes you have about your fae, so please leave a comment!
Raising the Modern Fae 