The LOOK
It happens to the best of us. We plan for a baby and for a few blissful months, that is exactly what we have - a soft and usually sweet-smelling baby who looks adorable in eyelet and ribbon and who endearingly dampens the shoulders and laps of those enslaved by her dimpled wee knuckles and her gentle gurgles. That's how it all begins.
At some point, however, the baby which we had planned for, all sweetness and light, becomes a person with complex thought processes and with means of expressing herself. This is something we had not planned for.
A few days ago, I answered a question from my daughter with what I thought was a terribly clever and witty remark. I turned to see the reaction from my beloved eldest and was met with THE LOOK. Now, those of you who have never had the unique privilege of living with a nine-year-old girl may not be familiar with THE LOOK (this may be viewed as a sexist remark, but I find that my daughter is ever so much more accomplished at giving THE LOOK than my eldest son).
THE LOOK involves a slackening of the jaw, a downward tilt of the head and a 180 degree roll of the eyes. THE LOOK is often accompanied by a forceful exhalation of breath indicating: a) disgust; b) disbelief; c) exasperation; d) embarrassment; e) all of the above. THE LOOK occurs more frequently in public, where the youngster must never be seen to approve of anything the parent does, says, likes, thinks or is.
And so I had been fixed with THE LOOK. It was meant, of course, to indicate the extreme disapproval of the actions of the parent (me) on the part of the child (my daughter). It was meant to whip me into like, to check my inappropriate behaviour, but I thought it was really quite funny. My laughter brought on another LOOK and the icy comment, "You are NOT amusing, Mother!"
Now, the child's grandmother finds this all very humorous. She
sarcastically says that things will only get better. She says she can
hardly wait until my daughter turns thirteen. She says she is most
delighted to see that The Ultimate Mother's Curse ("I hope you have a child who is just like you!" which was first cast upon me when I was, perhaps, three) has finally come true. The child's grandmother offers no sympathy. Instead, she laughs gleefully and begins to point out the many ways in which my daughter and I are alike.
I fix her with THE LOOK and try to pretend she is not my mother.