That Child

Children can be such impudent
little treasures can't they? One never
knows what outrageous observations
will spill out of their innocent little
mouths. Take my granddaughter for
example (no you cannot, she is the
only one I have), she was an incorrigibly
stubborn child, unwilling ever to take
any level of responsibility (a trait
inherited, unfortunately, from her
mother). It is these children of one's 
own once removed that have the
capacity to give pride to a grandmother's
heart or alternately, break it. Often when
she was young I would mimic that oft-
refrained "Not my fault!" to her tiny
resentful face, puckered in defiance
until a self-recognizing laugh erupted.
This is the child who even then 
exercised a sense of moral understanding
however, one that propelled her in later
years, still young, to cultivate the
ambition to become a lawyer. Few
affectations in that child, but a full
range of affectionate teasing. Her most
endearing trait, you ask? A puckish
sense of humour. On the back of one
envelope containing a carefully cursive
written letter in grade five, she wrote a
number of notes: Stay in school be cool 
(not)!; This letter is not a toy don't put
on head; Always eat your vegetables;
Some putting together required; Some
small parts age 3 and up; and finally
still on the back of the envelope: Children
under the age of 3 should not open.
Those were the days. You ask me, as a
friend, what happened to that child? 
Ah well, she became a detached adult
and I do sorely miss that child.