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.