The Preslar Family

The Preslar Family
November 2013

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

In The Game


Going into this post, there is something you need to know about me. I am a horrible person. There. Now that I've admitted that, is it okay for me to vent just a little? If not, you'd better quit reading right now.

Looking at these two cute pictures you can tell that I have one adorable daughter. Bitty has been nothing but darling since we brought Bundle home. I really expected her to have a much harder time than she has - I thought she'd be moody and emotional and tantrum-erific, but instead she's been warm and adoring and mostly cheerful. She is sleeping all night in her own bed, praise be. It's great. You may be wondering what the problem is.

Bitty no longer plays with any toys at all. I can get her to spend time on her bike on the back porch, which is great, but those times are breaks from her real passion. She spends all her time, from the moment she gets out of bed to the moment she gets back in it, playing pretend. That doesn't sound too bad except for the fact that in her game I play a major supporting roll. And there is a limited story line which she plays out over and over and over again all day long. I don't know what's going on for her that she needs to re-enact this scenario so much, but this is how it goes. (Also, she dictates out the entire game, including every word that she wants coming from my mouth.)

Bitty: In the game you're a nice lady and I'm a beautiful white kitty and when I meow you say, 'I head a meowing sound.' 'Meow!'
Me: I hear a meowing sound!
Bitty: Then you see a kitty shape coming towards you and you say, 'I hope that's a kitty!'
Me: I hope that's a kitty!
Bitty: Then I knock on your door and you open the door and you say, 'What a beautiful kitty!'
Me: What a beautiful kitty!
Bitty: And you find out that I live all alone and you live all alone too and you ask if I can come live with you...

You get the idea. The game is all about lonely people finding each other and then deciding to live together. Okay, it's not exactly the same every time. Sometimes she's "a sweet little girl" instead of a kitty. Either way, she names herself Matilda. Her script is about five to ten minutes long and the moment we reach the end of it she tells me that we're starting the game over. Nooooo! Actually, I can get her to keep the game going if I ask her to do things for me like get me a diaper or throw something away. But then she has a whole other script for that process and even though I have her script thouroughly memorized she still must dictate it to me. For the whole day. Seriously. She'll get out of bed and enter the living room with the cutest sweet smile on her face. I say good morning to her and she replies, "...and in the game you're a nice lady and you see a little kitty coming towards you..." You know you're in trouble when the first sentence that comes out of her mouth in the morning starts with "And." Like she is just continuing the sentence that she was in the middle of the night before when I tucked her in, turned off the light, walked out of her room and shut the door.

Oh forgive me. Honestly. I keep playing the game for one thing because she's so very sweet and cute about it and for another so I can interact with her as much as she wants even though I'm holding and bouncing and nursing and rocking a baby throughout the day. She needs that so I do it with a smile on my face. But on the blog, which she won't be able to read for several years, I will say...I'm about to lose my stinking mind!!!!!! Ahhhhh. Okay. I'm ready to go be in the game now.

2 comments:

ghd3 said...

it sounds awfully similar to our house, where L & C (usually L) are the directors, and we are all merely players.... It's fun (for me), if repetitive (for Kathleen).

Sheri said...

Would you rather have to play "asses" (a.k.a ring around the rosie) over and OVER?