IT'S A DAD'S LIFE:Kids can wrap us around their little fingers, but it doesn't matter as long as we're dancing to the same tune,writes Adam Brophy
THE YOUNGER child doesn't care what I think, nor what her mother thinks, or her sister. If she met you, the thought of making an impression wouldn't cross her mind.
Some kids like to entertain, others fret about how people see them - this one walks her own path, to her own tune.
She's not sullen, nor is she sunny. On an objective (ie not parentally skewed) scale of cuteness she scores high, but she would never dream of trading on that. She is hugely independent and takes her time thawing when presented with a new person or scenario, but once she's secure and interested she comes into her own as an entertainer and a wit.
She mightn't open her mouth from one end of the day to the next, then suddenly she's rapping like Eminem and making Wildean societal observations and expecting associated approving noises. I am in awe of her determination. I look at the elder and I see myself, physically and emotionally. The younger, on the other hand, mirrors her mother. I have seen people make the mistake of assuming that because this particular mother comes across as frothy, she may be easily manipulated.
These same people often only realise they have lost fingers from the hand they reached out to take with after the hand has been withdrawn. Both of them are powerhouses, but the child has yet to discover it's not always necessary to wear your personality on your sleeve. If she's mad, you feel her rage. If she's happy, she dances.
When people come to visit they'll crouch down and make a fuss of her. They'll comment on her hair, her dress, her shoes.
She won't reply, not for a while anyway. We've long given up on trying to indoctrinate her with polite ways of the world, encouraging her to acknowledge compliments and engage in chitchat.
She ignores us too. She meets someone and she waits, she sizes them up, their speech, demeanour, their standing, their delivery, she watches for their sincerity. She would have been a great little spycatcher, because she gets people right.
Kids generally do, but we try to knock their instinctive behaviour out of them for the sake of societal norms. We have to function after all, and not spend our time sniffing around others. We have one friend whom we don't see enough of because he's a man about town, single, child-free, with plenty of disposable income. The kids love him. Not because he plays the buffoon (which he's good at) but because he listens to them and takes them and their requests seriously.
He goes beyond "oh, aren't you lovely" meaning "now let me speak to your Dad," to performing mental and physical contortions to get to grips with what they're doing. He has precious little experience with children but something about him charms them. He has a lot of kid left in him.
Another actor friend lives in Oxford and occasionally returns to bring her brand of high-voltage enthusiasm rampaging through our house. On her last visit the younger approached her and asked: "Are you a grown-up or a kid?"
It helps that the thesp has managed to prolong her youthful visage but to a child, anyone over 15 is ancient. This adult rolls along with a vigour that displays how she feels at any given time.
When she is low she doesn't mask it. She is one of the few adults who can disregard the confines of platitudes in favour of expressing how she is and encouraging others to do the same. And, once again, the kids swarm all over her because of just that.
Other parents have commented that the younger has me wrapped around her little finger. That when I'm in the vicinity she'll make demands and behave like a despot but once I'm out of sight a new child appears, demure and obliging.
This concerns me - nobody wants their child to be the epitome of brat, and nobody wants to be the focus of their inner bratness. Yet, at the same time I find it oddly encouraging. She can be a monster when she feels like it with me, but she has the sense to know she can't play that card with everyone.
I get the good stuff too. I get the requests to make up stories (usually featuring her - she's a narcissist for sure), I get to play dress up with her, I am her dummy when she wants to spread her mother's creams on human flesh. So, yes, she does have me running in circles. But that's okay because we're running together.