[This rant is a result of a request in response to my rant meme by deedeebythebay. She asked for a rant on “on the uptight behavior of normally well behaved nine year old girls who go through stages of thinking they are God and can be rude to everyone around them.” Do you want a rant? Then reply to the rant meme. Lastly, please note that this is not a rant about my daughter, who has been behaving pretty well lately.]
[Climbs up on soapbox, clears throat, and begins]
OK, Small Child. Yes, I did say “small”, and I did say “child”. Get that: you’re a child, not a princess, not a supervisor, and certainly, not G-d. In fact, the authority structure is the other way around: From your point of view, I am King, for as they say, “I helped bring you into this world, I can certainly help take you out of it.”
Before I go further, please know that I do love you, always and unconditionally. I may not like your behaviour sometimes, but you I love.
I know you can be good. I’ve seen you do it. I’ve seen you be polite to other people. I’ve seen that you have the capability to care about others. I’ve even seen you clean your room. And I remember when you are good. Yes, I remember everything. This is why it galls me so much when you revert to being a 2-year old. Whine whine whine. Ordering me around, demanding that I take care of you whilst you lift nary a finger. “Oh yes, your highness, I’ll do it at once.” Not!
You want me to be nice to you. You want me not to scream at you. You want me not to order you around. You want me to treat you like a person, with respect. Well, it’s a two-way street missy! You want respect? Then treat me that way. I’ll be glad to treat you as a person, within boundaries, of course… after all, I do have to do a certain amount of unreasonable demands to keep my state-issued parenting license—c’mon, our governor, after all, is Jorgen von Strangle. So if you want respect, you treat me with respect.
Until then, I’m going to take a lesson from you. You say I don’t listen. Well, I do. You can now deal with my demands, child. Right now, I’m going to bed and getting some sleep. You get to figure out dinner on your own. Oh, and by the way, you’ve lost all privileges (except breathing) until I see a change in your behaviour.
So, what do I suggest you do? Well, I’ll be polite, and not suggest what I’m thinking. Go take a shower, find yourself something to eat, and go to your room and think for a bit. You’re smart: I’m sure you’ll figure out something.
[Climbs down from soapbox]
