From the Secret Island

I've heard that brains are stimulated by the learning of new languages. Ally claims [claims] proficiency in French, piano, ballet and Boula, so I guess her brains are practically scrambled eggs by now. Never heard of Boula? Ally talks about a lot of things I've never heard of, and when I question her about these "facts," weird idioms, and bits of questionable wisdom she just dismisses me, sometimes with patient long-suffering and sometimes with total exasperation. I learned that on the secret island, she says. Discussion over.

Never mind which logical fallacy this represents. She's invented a place I have never been and can never go. If I were Parker Posey I'd throw the perfect tantrum. It would express my exact level of irritation, and powerlessness, and grudging admiration.

Pffffft!

It's fun to get a glimpse, but I'd like to get a little closer. I'd like to crack the code on how to get her through her homework in less than three hours. What drives this little person? I remember feeling competitive at her age, wanting to be the best and the fastest; trying to race everyone in the neighborhood. Trying to please. But Ally doesn't like to race and doesn't like to compete. I'm confused, but intrigued and often delighted. My daughter is not just like me--in fact, she's very unlike me in many ways. For some reason this comes as a surprise to me every time I confront it in some new way.

In at least one way we're alike: she'd rather read than do most other things. We find her nestled in little nooks of her own making--behind the couch, behind her bed, ensconced in cushions on the couch or sprawled on her tummy.

I'm not going to say I know what to do all (most) of the time. But for now I'm planning to watch, wait, and enjoy.