Child psychology

“Very good!” I praised as Little One matched two cards on the screen. Playing a memory game, her tiny hand rested atop the mouse. She left clicked with her thumb, her attention on the monitor where shapes appeared when she clicked on the rectangles in a grid.

“I won,” she announced simply when all the cards were matched and a tiny cartoon appeared in the corner to congratulate her. I grinned and told her I was very impressed. And it’s true – she’s growing up and I continue to be a bit awed by this amazing little girl in our family. She’s smart and funny and very sweet.

And sensitive.

“My feelings are hurt,” she told me when I followed her down the hall. Little One has taken to ducking her head and moving away from the family when she takes offense to something.

“How come?” I asked, lying on the bed next to where she buried her face in the pillow. I smoothed her hair, a brown tangle of lovely curls, and waited for her to answer.

“My daddy doesn’t love me,” she confessed softly, lifting her head to meet my eyes. I frowned and cuddled her close, immediately disagreeing.

“No,” she persisted. “He gets real mad sometimes.”

“I know,” I said, biting back my thought that he’s kind of an idiot. “But he gets mad at me all the time and he still loves me. And sometimes I don’t like what he does, but I still love him too. Your dad will always love you very, very much. I promise.”

“Why’d he get mad at you?” she asked, rolling over to face me. I mirrored her position and propped my cheek on my hand as I shrugged.

“I used to tell him what to do,” I paused, thinking I still order him around at times. I’m overly certain I’m right sometimes and feel the need to correct my little brother. “Sometimes we’d fight,” I thought of the time I’d made his nose bleed, not without a bit of pride, “but we still love each other.”

“My dad moved out,” she told me and I blinked a few times and reached for my eldest niece. She curled into my chest and I smoothed her hair, trying to decide what to say.

“I heard that he did,” I whispered. Resting my hand on her crown, I said a prayer that she’d be comforted and secure in the love of her family, even as the sources of that love dispersed a bit.

“We’re moving in with my other grandma and grandpa,” she said and I nodded.

“Is that OK?” I asked, curious as to her response. She shrugged and said she guessed it was.

“I’m taking all my stuff. But not my dog and cat,” I nodded, thinking of how much I miss my animals. She seems to be more amenable to change than I am. But, I thought as I cuddled her, she’s been through a lot of it. Three daycares, two houses, spending time at home and various family members – differences in lifestyle don’t seem to phase her overly much.

“I love you,” I said. “We all love you – your daddy and grandma and grandpa and Aunt Katie. And Chienne and Sprout.” She lifted her head from my shoulder and giggled at me.

There are moments where she bugs me – she’s too rough with Smallest One sometimes. Not yet 1, Smallest One is the happiest baby I’ve seen. She giggles and plays and tries mightily to make everyone laugh. A delight through and through, she quickly recovers when Little One plays too rough or scares her. But the rest of us are overprotective perhaps, often deciding who should walk down the hall to soothe Little One’s hurt feelings after we correct her.

“Stop,” I said this morning as my parents discussed Brother and his poor decisions of late. “She can hear you,” I scolded, tipping my head to where Little One played in the next room.

“I miss my daddy,” she said later and we all nodded. It’s no surprise that we glare and scold when he comes to see the girls. He’s drinking rather than spending time with his daughters. He’s now apparently young and free, leaving my parents to deal with childcare while his wife is out of town. Divorce proceedings are apparently in the works and while I have little use for the two adults most of the time, I do adore and fret over their girls.

“Are you going home today?” she asked a moment ago. I glanced up from my laptop and nodded.

“I’ll be home next weekend again,” I offered and she nodded.

“What are you going to bring me?” I grinned at the question and watched her smile prettily in return. So while I’ll worry and pray, I somehow think she’ll be OK.