So my dad and my daughter have a somewhat special relationship. He does whatever she wants and she loves him in return. You can't exactly call that unconditional love because in fact it is very conditional.
For example, yesterday morning she woke up very cranky because she was by herself and had to walk upstairs rather than be carried. (I know.) So, I wished her good morning when she arrived in the kitchen and scooped her up and she had a full-on fit and ran off to pout. I happily ignored her but her grandpa went and got her and then poured her a nice big glass of juice and told her how nice she is for a few minutes.
Another day he went out to get her from the front yard, where she was breaking the rules because the kids are only allowed in the front yard with an adult, and came back in reporting that she wouldn't come with him, and had told him that she was the boss.
Seriously, Dad? I said. She weighs 26 pounds, so she's easy to hold even when she's having a fit and arching her back. You just pick her up.
I know, he said, but I want her to like me.
It reminds me of Grandma Sid's visit to London last year during which I asked, "really, she had no fits for you today?" and Grandma Sid said, "oh, no. I never told her 'no'."
For example, yesterday morning she woke up very cranky because she was by herself and had to walk upstairs rather than be carried. (I know.) So, I wished her good morning when she arrived in the kitchen and scooped her up and she had a full-on fit and ran off to pout. I happily ignored her but her grandpa went and got her and then poured her a nice big glass of juice and told her how nice she is for a few minutes.
Another day he went out to get her from the front yard, where she was breaking the rules because the kids are only allowed in the front yard with an adult, and came back in reporting that she wouldn't come with him, and had told him that she was the boss.
Seriously, Dad? I said. She weighs 26 pounds, so she's easy to hold even when she's having a fit and arching her back. You just pick her up.
I know, he said, but I want her to like me.
It reminds me of Grandma Sid's visit to London last year during which I asked, "really, she had no fits for you today?" and Grandma Sid said, "oh, no. I never told her 'no'."
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| Painting her Gwampa's toenails (with washable nail polish). |
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