Ashley, the superstar
Ashley dished a little attitude last night.
She’s the alternate internet persona for K, my almost-8-year-old daughter. K created a fictional character named Ashley, a sassy little redhead with thin hair(??), fair skin and freckles. I’m sure she would fit in perfectly at Camp Rock. Anyway, to be clear: This story is NOT about K (because that would be embarassing), but about Ashley. Got it?
Ashley has a habit of picking up various dramatic affects and testing them on the family: British accents, vogue poses, hair flips, big sighs, eye rolls, and lately, sassy comments. The harmless posing amuses me, but I have little patience for any disrespectful attitude. And last night, I was done. Evil Mom (EM) had entered the building.
Long past bedtime, I pried her off the wii Boogie Superstar, a hip-hoppin’ combination karyoke/dance game. Ashley is aiming for Superstar status. She didn’t quite make it. It was everybody else’s fault, of course. And the drama ensued.
I tried my mental mantras (what are they again? Oh, yes: empathy. . . this isn’t about me. . . who do I want to be?) but Evil Mom took charge. EM politely asked ordered her to pick up the floor so she could find her bed and put on her pj’s. Ashley flipped,
“Um, I expect a little help, Mom.”
“I’m sorry. I just don’t feel like helping you after you’ve disrespected me all evening,”
and courageously deployed her father get her to bed.
A few minutes later, EM stood down and I entered Ashley’s bedroom to kiss her goodnight. She was sniffing and hicupping through sobs (ouch!) as she put away her clothes. As I stepped in, she sweetly mewed:
You’re a really, really good mom.
And when someone is a good mom, someone should (hiccup, sob–) tell her.”
Oh my. I really, really didn’t deserve such a compliment last night. But I gratefully accepted, apologized for Evil Mom, and we hugged and sniffled together for a long, long time.
Yes. There is grace in parenting.