09 April 2013

The Diva-ishness of Daughters

There's something about daughters.
I have just the one, sandwiched between two larikins.
She often laments her lack of sisters and sobs out her disappointment with male crassness on my shoulder.
My daughter has an imagination that could paint the moon.
To match her dreams she has Drive, Determination and Daring.
And along with all those other fabulous D-words, she is also an idealistic perfectionistic Diva.

Combine all these factors and you know you're headed for a fall at some point.
Because the reality of real life is often less than ideal.
Dreams are sometimes dashed and brilliant plans often get derailed.
Nothing turns out the way it does in storybooks, darn it.

Take the other night.
Miss Fab recently discovered the joys of electronic keyboards while we were on holiday in Tauranga. There was one at our friends' house and she spent every spare minute playing on it.
"I wish we had a keyboard..." the music diva sighed on the way home.
Daddy recalled, "Hey, I think we've had one of those things stashed in the garage for years! I'll get it out for ya when we get home..."

And with that, a brand new passion was born.

Our diva spent all day playing around on her new keyboard, finding beats and tapping keys. As she did her dreams and plans built up sky high.

She would have a show, nay, a concert! A grand ole Opry where ladies and gents would come and sip genteel refreshments as they watched her (stunning) (surreal) (celebrated) performance.

Tickets were sent out, taped to bedroom doors, inviting, nay, commanding everyone to be in attendance after dinner, forthwith.

The concert piantist planned her outfit, set up chairs and even trained an encore act. Little Brother could sit in "third class" at the back of the room until called upon to push some keys and do a little twirl (she had him practising all day).

So cute, right?
But parents know how these things turn out.
They remember past meltdowns when things didn't go quite to plan.
They know they will soon be picking up angry, sad little pieces of their concert pianist's heart, if her ambition isn't tempered with reality (she has brothers).

Ahhh, but concert pianists are nothing if not headstrong divas.
Our concert pianist ignored all pleas to "not expect things to be perfect" and "don't get your hopes too high".

Time for the concert.
The public arrived on time and were shown to their pre-arranged seats.
The show began.
All went well... until the sniggers started leaking out.
Furious glares were shot to the cheap seats.
Harsh whispers aimed at 10 year old boy-ears.
"Shhh! Don't laugh!"
"Encourage her... be positive...."

The sniggerer zipped his lip. The pianist continued to press random keys and combine electro-beats.
The concert was a little long.
So the public chomped on chippies and sipped orange juice.
Polite applause between tunes... So many tunes!

"How many more???" "Is it finished yet?" and then "I'm bored..."

That's when the dancing began.
In an attempt to liven things up and participate in the performance, Daddy overestimated his ability to make an audience laugh.

One concert pianist extremely miffed at having her show stolen.
One big brother rolling on the floor laughing.
(One little brother sitting obediently as instructed.)

One daddy boogying down.
One mummy saying, "Guys! Guys!"
One sad angry little concert pianist, her concert-debut dreams in tatters, her ears ringing with male laughter, stomping off in a huff to the park...


Sugar and Spice and all things nice?
Sure. Little girls are sweet. But some of those spices are hot chilli peppers.
Daughters are delightful indeed.
But they can also be feisty, emotional drama queens who would give any Hollywood diva a run for their money.

Gotta love em though... they are fabulous, after all.

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