16. Tiny Dancer
Tiny Dancer
Three Days Later
S eptember 4, 1998
Dear Arden,
I’m having a freaking meltdown here, and I need you to talk me off the metaphorical ledge because I can’t even breathe right now.
This child has me at the end of my rope. I swear to God, the way she dives right into doing things with zero fear cannot be normal. I told you about catching her sitting on top of the refrigerator last week. I told you how she climbed on top of the kitchen table, then fell off. I put her in time-out every time, and she says she’s sorry. Then she does it again and says she forgot, and I believe her.
It’s like she has a thought, then just does that thing without a moment’s hesitation. I expected that of a two-year-old, but she’s three and a half.
I found out today that her cousin, Deirdre, told her that if she hung from monkey bars long enough, it would make her grow. Since she hates being the littlest cousin, she’s become obsessed with hanging off things. I told her that’s not how it worked, but she’s convinced it will. She says she can feel herself “stretching” taller. That’s what she was doing on the fridge, and when she was on the table, she was trying to reach the little chandelier above it. She hung off the bathroom towel rack yesterday and brought the whole thing crashing down onto her head.
Today, on our way home from BSU, I stopped at my parents’ place. While I was talking to Mom, I looked over and caught her ON TOP OF THE DECK RAILING. If I had checked on her TWO SECONDS later, she’d have been hanging two stories above the ground or already fallen!
I completely lost it on her. And when she didn’t seem to care that I was yelling at her, I yelled louder until she cried. Then my mother scolded me for making her cry because “That’s not the way to handle this.” I know Mom is right. I didn’t mean to raise my voice, but I have never been so scared in my life, which is saying something because I’ve experienced some terrifying things.
In my head, I could see her hanging from that railing, then falling to the concrete patio. Even now, I can’t stop seeing it.
I feel like a monster that I lost my cool with her. That isn’t who I thought I was. But it’s almost worse that I’m still trying to remember how to breathe an hour later, and she’s forgotten all about it. She does the exact same things at daycare too.
She tries to do headfirst “flips” off the end of the sofa. She puts pillows on the floor, then pretends the footboard of her bed is a diving board.
I try to watch her every second, but I can’t. I can’t plop her into her crib while I go to the bathroom, anymore.
I wouldn’t survive losing Bronnie. I wouldn’t even want to. You tell me how strong I am all the time, but I’m not strong enough for that.
I don’t even know why I’m sending this. There’s nothing anyone can do about it.
Love, Charlotte