Monday, September 5, 2011

A Flair for the Dramatic

My big girl, Tootsie Roll, is about to turn 9 later this month, and will begin fourth grade on Wednesday.  TR has always been a dramatic kid, from the first four colicky months of constant day-and-night screamage to the following ten months of ear infections (tubes saved the day at 15 months).  She pulled a tv onto her head at age two, and got stitches above her lip thanks to a smack in the face by a pole at age five (that's what happens when you keep swinging around it, let this be a lesson to you all).

She has since channeled her energies into more productive and artistic venues, from theater camp to tap/jazz/ballet classes to teaching herself basic piano to nonstop singing to upcoming violin lessons this year.  Her Type A side (ohh she's her mom) is coming out in the way she likes to have people follow the rules and her love of lists and schedules.  She is emotional, doesn't understand why people hurt one another, and is a fabulous writer for her ability to see deeply into people's feelings.  The constant physical drama of her younger years has definitely melted into early tween navigation through friendships and the pouring of thoughts onto paper.

But then yesterday, riding her bike as the summer days dwindle, she fell, and in a style befitting a much younger version of herself, got a lovely bike handle (sans streamers) directly in the gut.

Yes, that is the exact impression of the end of her bike handle with the hole in the middle where streamers could go if she weren't a super cool almost 9 year old.
Yeah, her new bike is black and pink with skully things on it.  Love.  Anyway, no worries, we did the responsible thing and took her to the ER, where we did ridiculous amounts of waiting they ultrasounded the bejeezus out of her and the very lovely tech complimented each of her very clear and compliant internal organs.

All is well, and now she has a lovely photo (although it saddened her that I disapproved of the idea of her lifting up her shirt to show her friends her battle scar, like Madeline - even the "Ok, then I'll only do it on the playground" version) to share with her friends... which will probably get top billing in the fourth grade requisite What I Did This Summer journal entry over her month-long theater camp, week long trip to Vermont, and triumph over all things "I can't really swim". 

Here's to a new year - you never know what drama lurks around the corner! ;)