You know what honey badgers don’t give?
It’ s a bit frightening to see a three year old with the attitude, spunk, foot stomping, and mad manipulation skills that took me nearly 19 years or so to master.
I fear for her parents.
She and her brother are like the sun and moon–I’m just not sure which is which. She–the younger by 2 years–is blonde and fluffy; he’s dark and slender. Their physical attributes are the least of their dissimilarities.
While the boy craves approval, and, thus, rarely actively misbehaves, the girl is a three-year-old honey badger with curls. Approval isn’t something she strives for, instead, it is something she bestows upon those around her if the mood so hits her.
Despite these differences, despite their sibling squabbles, it is so evident that they love each other, very, very much. If one falls down, the other is right there, even in the middle of having a hissy-fit, to pat the other on the back and say, “It’s all right, Bubba,” or “It’s all right, Boo.”
They hug. They dance. They fight.
They are amazing.
Two of the girl’s favorite phrases are “No” and “I got it.”
“I want” ranks pretty high up on the list, too.
We’ll ask her to get her shoes; we’ll say to someone else, “I’m going to get a glass of tea.”
If it involves getting something, she’s all about it, assuming her mood is amenable. “I got it.”
When she doesn’t want to share, the answer, if not the tone is the same. “I got it.”
When she’s really pissy, she has a mantra: “I got it, I got it, I got it.”
Lyrical Fool 