It has been a fairly weird day today. Horse, who is visiting relatives for the week, has called home in tears multiple times. The most perplexing phone call, in my opinion, came this morning when she called because the person who was trying to get all the knots out of her hair mentioned that her hair was knotted like feral cat fur. Personally, I thought that analogy was better than my knotted-hair comparison to a rat's nest, which has yet to lead her to the shedding of even a single tear. The best I could figure out when she called here sobbing over this interaction was that she did not understand what was being said. I explained it simply meant that her hair was knotted and tangled, and informed her that analogies are not the same thing as name-calling. She sounded tired and said she had not eaten in the few hours she had been awake, so I am fairly certain that hunger and exhaustion played a part in her mood swings, but whatever was really bothering her might never be known.
Horse might have been tired and cranky. She might have been hungry, homesick, bored, overwhelmed, PMS-ing (hey, even at age nine, it could happen), distracted by the novelty of having a bedroom all to herself, upset because she had a bedroom all to herself, worried about getting in trouble for having knots in her hair, thinking about something that happened six months ago, or afraid to say what was on her mind because she did not want to speak too loudly and risk startling the very deaf dog who resides in the same house where she is staying. She excels in not speaking plainly when something is on her mind.
At least Horse and Rooster are not actively involved in teary arguments together right now. Both of my girls definitely make it a challenge to understand what is bothering them. It becomes even more of a trial when they actively conspire against being understood. I wonder if there is some secret gene in their DNA that allows them to try and manipulate the facts to avoid comprehension. Their brother, on the other hand, has bouts of unexpected honesty that cause me to blink in confusion and consternation.
Here was one of our conversations at home today, upon my hearing a mysterious thumping sound emanating from the room where Rooster and Pig Jr. were playing:
Me: "What was that noise? Are you behaving in there?"
Rooster: "Nothing! Yes, we are behaving!"
Pig Jr: "No, we're not!"
Rooster: "Don't listen to him! He's just confused."
Pig Jr: "No, I not confused!"
Me: "Are you going to behave now?"
Rooster: "Yes, Mommy."
Pig Jr: "No. I not behave."
Rooster: "He's just teasing."
Pig Jr: "No, I not teasing. I not behaving. I not want to behave."
Me: "Well, if you are not going to behave while playing with Rooster, then you are not allowed in her room right now."
Pig Jr: "Okay, I leave the room. I not want to behave."
I am not sure what scares me more: Rooster's dishonesty about their behavior or Pig Jr.'s contented but honest commentary about not wanting to behave. I find myself having daydream nightmares about what I imagine they will be like as teenagers, with both girls keeping reality hidden and Pig Jr. piping up with random honest tidbits just often enough to make me wonder whether or not I really want to know the truth.
I can picture what it might be like a few years from now, should they be caught trying to sneak into the house after denting the car. Horse might burst into tears and then start bawling about how someone in one of her classes said something rude to her. Rooster might stare blankly at the car and ask how on earth such a dent occurred. Pig Jr would probably just look up with a huge smirk on his face and say, "Gee, Mom, I was wondering how a drum solo might sound if pounded out on the hood while using a baseball bat. It was awesome!"
Heaven help me survive their childhood.
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