Sometimes She's Perfect

I admit it, there are times when I think my daughter hits the good-behavior nail square on the head. Unfortunately, I have found out that most of those occasions are with other people, and when we are anywhere but in our own home. I often tell friends that I'm not sure who coined the phrase Terrible Twos, because three has been much harder than two ever was.

But there are those times....oh, the times I just want to kiss her little cheeks over and over again until she tells me she has more important things to do, like lie on the cat until the cat is completely smothered. In the last few weeks when we have gone to visit Paul's mom in the hospital or nursing home, I actually burst with pride at how well Abigail acts in that setting. She isn't afraid in the slightest of tubes or IV's or hospital beds or Grandma not wearing her wig. She crawls right up in that bed next to Jean and shares chocolate Skittles with her. She asks her if her shots hurt. She sings her AWANA songs. She hugs Jean and tells her she missed her. She hears the sound of a person on the other side of the curtain in Jean's room, and asks if she can meet the roommate.

This past weekend, Abigail stayed with my parents while we were at a conference. Now, I wouldn't go so far as to say she was perfect, but Memaw did (and Memaw is the one who will actually be honest about it...Papa isn't). They painted. They dyed Easter eggs. They ate Easter eggs. They watched Pinnochio (she didn't like when Pinnochio got sick from smoking a cigar). She helped Papa pick up sticks in the yard. She made being away so easy. Not that it is great fun to be away from her for the weekend (well, I usually don't mind a little getaway until about Sunday...then I miss her). But you know how it is when they are with the grandparents and you just want them to be on their best behavior so that no one thinks you've done a bad job.

Tonight we were having dinner, and Paul tore a paper towel in half for them to share as a napkin. He took the smaller one and gave her the big one. And she threw an all. out. fit. Because she is little. So therefore, she MUST have the little paper towel, not the big one. We both were staying calm, telling her "Just ask nicely for it and you can have it. You don't throw fits when you want something." She cried. And kicked. And screamed. She almost dumped her food on the floor....almost. She went to our room and cried for about a solid five minutes. It was one very ugly fit. Through the door, I told her, "When you are finished, you can come out and eat."

And then she was. Like it hadn't even happened, she opened the door, climbed in her seat, apologized for throwing a fit, and said, "May I please have the little paper towel?"

Sometimes she's perfect. Sometimes, she's just three.