Lately I’ve had second thoughts about the nickname for my daughter, the Demon Child. You see, she’s been nice. She’s been reasonable. Heck, she’s even TALKED to me without being prodded mercilessly. And even more surprising:
When I’ve called her cellphone, she’s answered right away.
She’s said please and thank you when I’ve driven her places.
She’s joined my husband and me at the table for dinner.
At first I suspected there was an ulterior motive or something else at work – you know, like a major cash grab or failing marks at school or drugs. But these symptoms actually lasted longer than 48 hours?!
However, reality soon came crashing down.
Last night she called me at 6pm and asked me to pick her up – I was in the middle of making dinner but it was dark, freezing cold and pouring with rain. I headed out but couldn’t find her. I called her cell over and over and over again. I had visions of her being mauled by bears and raccoons or kidnapped by sex trade slavers or even worse (exactly what is worse, I’m not sure). Finally we connected by cell and in person, but by that time I was rather rattled. She interpreted my worry as anger and lashed out at me full force.
“WHAT is your problem mother?!” – accompanied by a number of words which I can’t repeat here.
Deep breath time. Silence. Refocus. Small talk regarding her day at school. Then…
“By the way, your dad and I would like to go skiing up at Whistler later this month. We’ll get a couple of rooms at the Fairmont and you can bring a friend.”
“Mom, I told you before, I DON’T want to talk about skiing.”
Even though she’s going skiing with friends early in the new year so should practice?! Whatever. Another breath.
“Do you have much homework tonight? Did you get caught up in math and geography today?” – She had been sick the previous day and missed school .
“MOM GET OFF MY CASE. JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO PICK A FIGHT?”
Ahh…the Demon Child is back. But at least for a little while I had a glimpse of what could be…what might be…what I hope is coming.