Behold the fury of five

21 January 2013 - 02:09 By Jackie May
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Jackie May. File photo.
Jackie May. File photo.
Image: Times LIVE

It began at 6am. I had stayed up late the night before, doing what parents everywhere do at this time of the year: make sense of the new school calendar.

The quicker the schedule is nailed down, the sooner I can outsource responsibilities, arrange lifts for the children and lunch dates for myself. That morning, like most, as I opened my scratchy eyes I had hoped to close them again immediately.

Instead, I was the target of my youngest's fury. According to my gentle, introverted son, my hobby is "shouting at us".

So though it is unusual, it's probably perfectly understandable that I am shouted at in turn. They learn by example, the experts say.

That night while I read notes, filled in countless forms and sewed on name labels, I had convinced my husband to get our youngest child's party invitations done.

During the week, she had left notes, which I had penned, next to my bed reminding me to do the invitations. She'd also spent two afternoons drawing on the back of sheets of recycled office paper. Her intricate colour sketches were versions of the same scene.

Children standing at a table in a treed garden. A large and colourful cake stood on the table.

I felt her anxiety. I wanted to calm her and get the invitations sent out soonest.

I had begun the process the night before, with her telling me which drawing was meant for which friend. Her father finished the job. Mistake.

She was infuriated. Who did we think we were? How could we go ahead and decide which invitation was for whom?

She took each one out of its envelope, tore it up, took the pile of paper and with huge dramatic gestures, dumped it in the bin. She did the same with the envelopes. She screamed about how silly we were, how her party wasn't going to happen and how she had the worst parents ever.

With my ears still ringing from the noise, I dropped her off at school, had a moan, and was told that now she had let off steam, she'd be a pleasure to teach.

Parents I know have dubbed the early years as the terrible twos, the horrible threes and the f$%#ing fours. Today she's five. How much worse will it get before it gets better?

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