Five vs. the iPhone

I’m booking Five in to zoo camp next week.

She will be a spectator and a student, although one could be forgiven for thinking she might be a resident given her recent behaviour.  I am willing to pay almost anything to get her out of the house for a few hours each day given the stroppy teenager she has taken to aping at intermittent, unpredictable intervals during each and every day.

Today she woke up at 5.30am, citing jet-lag although curiously this also kept her up until 11pm last night – don’t quite know how it works both ways but she milked it anyway – and demanded stories, forbidden DVD’s, food, drinks, etc. all of which were granted by her bleary-eyed father while I slept on, blissfully unaware. Her mood deteriorated as she got colder and therefore grumpier because she absolutely and categorically refused to put on a stitch of clothing except the revolting My Little Pony nightie she had conned her Grandad into buying for her in Washington DC. Of course it was unavailable today – in the wash, finally and deservedly – so she conducted her Machiavellian morning in the buff which was picturesque but chilly so by the time I got up (roughly shaken awake with the admonition to fetch Two as he was stuck between his cot and the wall) her teeth were chattering and she was furious with me.
Husband had gone back to bed by this point, exhausted by ill temper (hers) and obsequience (his).

I fed the children and drifted outside for my morning dose of sanity – writing in my diary – leaving Husband in charge, and came back to find Five lying on the floor howling about nothing in particular.  She had been set off by Two finding a ladybird and was enraged that she herself did not have one -it wasn’t fair.

I hear “It’s not fair” quite a lot from Five and I do sympathise. I well remember feeling completely powerless at that age and thinking that only the grownups had any fun or control. When I grew up I was going to eat sweets for every meal and live in a double decker bus and go to bed as late as I wanted and never have a bath, not ever, so there!

Now I’m a grownup and a mother I also think it’s not fair that I try my very best, give her all that I didn’t have, including my attention, affection and understanding and I still get flashing eyes, stomping feet and phenomenal cheekiness sometimes bordering on rudeness and she’s only FIVE. Admittedly I was like this sometimes but I saved it until I was a bit older and had been crapped on by the world. I was quite sweet up until then and not overly dramatic (nb. I checked with my parents, I am not making this up).

Today she said:

“Oh, you think your iPhone is SO smart.”

Me: ” Well, it is quite clever”

Five: ” I bet it can’t find London”

Me: ” Well, actually it can.”

Five: ” Oh. Well, I bet it can’t find Paris.”

Me:  ” It can find Paris, too – want to have a look together? It’s in Europe.”

Five: ” Well, it can’t find HEAVEN!”

Me (laughing): “That’s true, it can’t. Nobody really knows where that is, though, not even the iPhone.”

Five: “I do. It’s up there in the sky”

Me: “Really? We were just up there in a plane! I didn’t see it. Are you sure?”

Five: ” Oh yeah! I saw it, it was there. You just didn’t see it because you were too busy reading your book”

This was hilariously funny, but also a little sad. There were moments when she was shrieking with laughter at the tiny people and specks of cars on the ground, seeing the swimming pools from far away as little fairy ponds for flies to swim in.
Was this a kind of nirvana for her?
I was trying to block it all out, get some shuteye, trying not to remember a hundred flights like this I had taken in my own childhood, alone, between one grumpy parent and another, full of sadness and anxiety. I used to read a lot on those little eggbeaters.

Maybe I could take a leaf out of her book by taking my nose out of mine. I wouldn’t want to miss heaven if it’s really up there. And I suppose it’s possible that if I were just a little more present she might see that as a gift, too.

Sound fair?