The Child Within

It doesn’t really matter how much older we get with each passing year. There will always remain a little child in all of us who pops up to say hello, every once in a while

I’m still that little girl who made her mummy promise her that she would always have the prettiest dress, the longest hair and the bluest eyes. I’m still that little girl with the mandate to spit my dummy and throw my toys out of the pram if I don’t get my own way. I’m still that little girl who refuses to share, even if it means missing out on something she desperately wants because she’s simply too stubborn to just give in. I’m still just a little girl at heart.

I started thinking about the subject when I bought my dads Fathers day card last week. The first verse on the card that I chose was…

“You choose not to see the faults in me that other people do”

It really made me chuckle.

A very small man with very large shoulders my father. I can recall many a conversation over the years after one of my hissy fits that have gone as follows…

“Dad….”
“I know”
“I’m sorry”
“I know”
“I love you”
“I know”

And it’s forgotten.

I’m chuckling to myself now as I write this latest post. Thinking if only it were so easy for others to forget.

Our kitchen porter still remembers the time I threw a box with £50.00 worth of change inside directly at his head, simply because he asked me for it at the wrong time. Sabrina will never forget the time I lost it with her because she chose a biscuit from the foxes selection, knowing full well that she wouldn’t like it. But that’s me, and it would seem that I’m not the only one around here with a temper.

Yesterday morning I walked into the kitchen where chef was ranting away like, I suppose I could say like normal really because he does seem to do it a lot these days.

Sabrina was stood chuckling to herself and I of course had to know what was going on

“What’s up with him?”
“He’s just thrown a tin opener across the room”
“A tin opener?”
“Yeah”
“Why?”
“Because he didn’t know how to use it”
“He didn’t know how to use it?”
“No”
“Why what’s so difficult about it?”

“Erm excuse me!”

We both turned to look at chef

“Right” he said as he pointed at me “You see if you can f**king do it”

He slatted the tin opener in front of me and folded his arms. The little boy inside him had a smug look on his face as if to say

“If I can’t do it there’s no way that she can”

But he was wrong. Although I had absolutely no idea how chef thought it should be used. To me, the correct way was blatantly obvious. I knew that I was going to get the last laugh.

I carefully clasped the contraption around a tin of prunes and gently twisted it round and round, and watched his face drop as mine became more and more smug.

“There you go” I said as the top of the tin slid off perfectly “Easy as that”

That little boy inside chef that had made him throw the tin opener in the first place gave me a cheeky smile. The little girl inside me just flicked her hair and strutted out of the kitchen proud as punch.

Later on that morning I went back into the kitchen where the topic of conversation was still Chef and the incident with the tin opener.

“At the end of the day” he said still with his cheeky grin “Everyone loses it sometimes, and if I can’t do it in front of you lot, when can I do it?”

And he was absolutely right. We know him back to front, inside and out and we all adore him for exactly who he is, temper and all. It got me thinking back to that card again.

“You choose not to see the faults in me that other people do”

It’s the same for all of us really. Simon reassured me recently that when I go off on my little rants and behave like a “petulant child” as somebody recently called me, nobody here takes me seriously. They just laugh and take me with a pinch of salt. That’s when you know you’ve got good people around you, when they’re people who accept you for who you are, and know that they can expect the same from you.

Yes I may behave like a spoilt little girl sometimes. I may say that something is fine then 20 minutes later decide that it’s not. I may cut my nose off to spite my face by refusing to share. I may “spit my dummy” so to speak if I’m not the centre of attention. But that’s me, and I don’t pretend to be anything different.

I’m still that little girl who wants to have the prettiest dress, the longest hair and the bluest eyes. I still want to be number one. And why shouldn’t I be?

After all, the small man with the big shoulders that I used to sit on as a child told me I should never allow myself to be anything else.

And I think he was right!