My Girl

It’s getting pretty scary how much CB and I appear to be cut from the same cloth.  I know it’s causing Al to really pull out her hair lately.  Al has always heard from my parents what an easy going child I was; happy, sweet, content.  Everything was just fine except for that one little trait – pure stubborness.  You know it’s a bad sign when my parents could quote Dr. Dobson’s “Strong Willed Child” like some could quote the scriptures.

My mom got a big kick out of it when she happened to see Dr. Dobson’s NEW “Strong Willed Child” laying around our house a while back.  Al and I have both read it and have been comparing stories, not that it’s doing any good.

Little Miss Caroline is one of the most wonderful things in my life, and she truly is a joy to be around.  Smart, funny, extremely compassionate, and you guessed it, the most stubborn creature God ever let live, present company excluded.

Potty training? Why she might need to go every ten minutes, IF it’s her idea.  Otherwise, she’ll hold it for, literally, 9 hours, if you are trying to force her.

When she gets something set in her head, you can forget about it ever changing it.
Black shoes for example.  Recently, we were getting ready to go to church one Sunday morning, a chore that is becoming increasingly difficult, if not impossible with all the bows, dresses, shoes, etc…

We were all dressed and ready to walk out the door, when CB decided she would not wear the black shoes that went with her outfit, nor the matching socks.  She wanted to wear her Crocs.  This was no joke, and she wasn’t budging.  Al was about ready to let it go since we were seconds from getting in the car, but I refused.

She was wearing those shoes if it was the last thing I did.  CB had the converse of that position, and held with the same conviction.

A half hour later I left her room, dripping in sweat, and exhausted.  I’ve been in a bar fight in Louisiana that went better.  I closed the door, stormed out into the den as I heard a shoe hitting the other side of the bedroom door.

CB was in her room, fuming, and I was on the couch, furious.  Al and MK are looking at me like I’m nuts.  Al eventually starts laughing realizing that I’ve been battling with a 3 yr old that is in a lot of ways, very much my equal.

There’s a scene from my favorite piece of literature, A River Runs Through It, that really hits home for me now.  The 8 year old son of a Presbyterian Minister is refusing to eat his oatmeal.  “Man has been eating God’s oats for over a thousand years. It’s not up to an 8 yr old boy to change that tradition,” the father tells the boy to no avail.  The film really captures the scene well, as you see the boy sitting at the table for hours, staring into space, not giving an inch.  At the same time, the father is in the next room, in the exact same pose.  I always thought that scene was pretty funny, until now.

I thought this was just a cute picture of me and miss CB on a cow, but apparently Al has informed me that it’s a perfect shot of 3 bulls, all fighting for the top spot.  That’s My CB.  I love her…

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