The Problems of Youth

I had a phone conversation with my 4 1/2-year-old drama queen niece a little earlier. She was speaking in a very tiny, pitiful voice because her 14-month-old brother had torn up a page she had painted earlier. Now, mind you, this was not a personal water color or finger painting. Oh no, it was a page from one of those books that just requires a brush dunked in water to make the colors pop out on the page. She said she was having a very bad day.

I said, "You can do another picture."
Tiny, tiny voice: "But that was the only one I wanted to do. I knew having another baby was a bad idea."
"He's a very good little brother and you'll be so glad to have him when he's older."
"I don't like him very much."
"But you love him. You can not like someone but still love them."
"I don't love him anymore."

I tried to distract her for awhile by talking about my cats, which worked a little. We talked about their toys and whether they were ever mean. I told her they're not and they love visitors. She said they were her favorite kitties, even though she's never met them before. She mentioned my grandmother and said maybe she'd get to see her when she went to heaven, which weirded me out a little, but I'm glad she still thinks of Mama' (it's pronounced Mamaw, but my grandmother didn't really like that and spelled it with a bit of French affectation, even though all 4 of her grandparents came from Germany). She then asked me what (Christmas) ornaments I have. When I told her I have a Cinderella ornament she brightened and got much louder. She was a bit confused when I tried to explain that mine is not a Disney ornament but a tiny version of a Madame Alexander doll. She has a Madame Alexander doll, but as it's not for play, probably doesn't pay it much attention. She then returned to the painting tragedy.

"Nothing will ever cheer me up."
"Why don't you play with some bubbles today?"
"No, thank you. He tore up my picture. It was the only one I wanted to do."

She told me goodbye, and that maybe she could come and visit my kitties. She gave the phone back to my mother and we resumed our earlier chat. While we were talking, my niece did another picture, this time at the kitchen table so her unloved little brother could not tear it up. I heard her tell my mother she wanted to do one more. Mom said she didn't seem very sad any more. "Ever" didn't last too long, but she has a long memory, and though she will probably forgive little brother, she may never forget. I hope she never forgets Mama' either.