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I tweet about the baby bratlet a lot-things she’s said or done-the sort of things that make me want to pound my head against a wall.  People laugh and think I’m kidding about how…um… interesting she is.  Then they meet her and go…

awwww… she’s so cute!  She’s too adorable to be that rotten!

My response is:

God made her that cute for one reason.  So she would survive her childhood.  It’s her defense mechanism.

People really don’t think she can be that much of a handful, that much…well,…er… anyway.   I mean-she’s just a kid, right? Lots of people have them.  I mean… I have two others.

No.  She really is that much of a handful.  She really is that…er, well, anyway.

Instead of just relating more head–>desk stories, let me explain some other things.  Things like…

I go into the school to pick up something for my other kid and I get laughter.  I don’t know why… baby bratlet isn’t with me and she doesn’t go to school there.  But she’s there when the sitter picks up the monster.  And she does things like flirts with every male in the building.  She runs around and makes eyes at people.  She wraps everybody around her finger.  I cant’ even get explanations for why I get laughter, but it has something to do with baby bratlet.

I go to preschool to pick her up?  I get laughter.  Now I’ve watched-other parents don’t get this.  But I do.  Finally I asked and well… baby bratlet just keeps them laughing.  She’s not bad, although she’s very ‘me’ centric, still.  But she’s…unique.  Yes.  Unique.   She amuses them.  A lot.  And still, they can’t quite tell me exactly what she does or says that amuses them so much-it’s just her.

And yes-I get unique about her all the time. I’m not just saying this as her mama.  I’m saying this as somebody who has worked with kids for going on twelve years.

We had concerns about her speech when she was coming up on three.  So we asked about getting her testing.  Within five minutes, the therapists are all but rolling their eyes-yes, her speech isn’t clear, but it’s because her brain already has the vocabulary of a five or six year old and her mouth isn’t quite ready, physically, to form the words her head knows.  So we can’t understand.

At Lora Leigh’s RAW event?  While we were setting up for the first booksigning, before the readers had come in, I let the kids in there to wander a bit before I sent them off with my friend, Lime, who had (foolishly) agreed to watch them for me (in exchange for me paying for her way/food/booze).  Jim Butcher is there and he is watching baby bratlet and he makes this comment… that girl sure is cute, but she’s got way too much energy.

More proof that’s she is… ah… unusual?  I had accidentally left a lancet in my pocket earlier this week when I was helping out at the doctor’s office.  She wanted me to poke her finger.  Knowing it would hurt.  She didn’t care.  She wanted to see what the thing did and how it would feel.  O.o  She is four… and she wants her finger poked.

But in case constant raised eyebrows, her wanting to get her finger poked, ‘unique’ comments aren’t enough… let me explain her to you like this.

Many of you who visit my blog have probably gathered a few things about me…

I’m not shy.  I don’t back away from confrontation, even though I do understand some need for diplomacy.  Even though I don’t always care for it, I realize there’s also a need in life for caution.    I’ve learned to… ah… curb my tongue.  Not just online, but in general.

Now… imagine a flirtatious mini-me in concentrated miniature form with absolutely no sense of danger, no idea of caution and absolutely no brakes.

That’s the baby bratlet.  And people wonder why I bang my head.  I love her dearly and wouldn’t trade her for anything.  But she just may put me in the funny farm. O.o