I've posted a bit about my grandkids lately, mostly about my granddaughter. That's because she is one of those children with such an overwhelming personality you just can't help but notice her. Her older brother is a more conservative type, quiet and kind, who tends to entertain himself more easily than most children. It's because of his sweet nature that I fail to mention him often...he just doesn't stir up the dust as much as his wily little sister. I've been trying to find a good moniker for her on this site. Until now I have referred to her as Little Gidget, but starting today she is the Little General. That title suits her much better. Just picture General Honore (of Don't Get Stuck on Stupid fame) as a 4-year-old girl with long blond ringlets and you get the picture. She has a very demanding presence. But, occasionally even the strongest get reprimanded and this weekend it was the Little General's turn. Her egregious error had her sent to the far distant netherlands of Grandma's house for a night, sent there by charges brought forth from her mild-mannered brother. It was a just punishment only inches away from demanding a full court-martial. Here is the offense as reported to me:
On Thursday night last, the older brother (hereinafter referred to as Sgt. York until a more suitable title arrives) was in his room playing quietly with his pile of little green army men. He was having a war. He had spent quite a while building camps and setting up battlegrounds, using shoes for hideouts and pillows for mountains and all was going well when the Little General arrived at his door. Seeing what he was playing, she asked if she could play also (it is quite possible that she demanded to play). Sgt. York is not fond of playing with the Little General as she tends to be over-bearing but he does occasionally try to get along with her when the situation merits extra playmates and this was one such situation. The Little General saw that Sgt. York had his men set up in a Lincoln Log headquarters and decided that she would need a headquarters for her men also. She went to her room and returned with what Sgt. York considered a firing squad offense. For her headquarters, she had brought to the battleground her pretty pink dollhouse.
Well as I heard it, my sweet, mild, ever-loving grandson went ballistic on his sister. On the verge of tears when his parents arrived to check out all the commotion, he was heard to say "You are so stupid. You don't have pink dollhouses in a WAR." Quiet little Sgt. York had turned into Drill Sgt. Death. He had had enough. And so the Little General was banished. Sgt. York needed time to regroup and play by himself. He had kept quiet long enough. He had pacified his bossy sister to the point of exploding. The Don't-Hit-Girls rule had taken it's toll and he finally told her how it was. She was not to play army with him ever again. And could she pleeeeease go stay at Grandma's house before she drove him to suicide?
And so it was that the Little General was sent to my house, standing staight and tall, successfully hiding her shame to the point of making me wonder if she had any shame at all. We spent the night polishing nails and reading stories and the Little General returned to her barracks the next day to find Sgt. York back to his old self, renewed with a much needed R & R and a feeling of accomplishment. He had ousted the pink tyrant and he was a better man for it.