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The Four Year Old: Steeped in Evil
Several years ago, I was a part of a mommy/baby running club. We would meet several times a week to trail run with our tots in strollers, and reward ourselves with a massive coffee infusion at Starbucks when we were through. My eldest daughter was less than a year old, and my younger child had not been oopsed yet. One gloomy spring day, the founder of the club was kvetching to me as we were huffing and puffing down the dyke along the river. “Tia…you have no idea….they tell you about the Terrible Twos…but really, two year olds are not so bad. They forget to tell you….about…the FUCKING FOURS! Four SUCKS. I want to give this kid away!” I chuckled, and smugly assumed it was because her kid was a brat, and that MY kid would be different.
She wasn’t kidding. The Four Year Old is steeped in the deepest, darkest evil. If Hitler had really wanted to reign supreme, he would have used packs of Four Year Olds to do his bidding instead of the SS. Not only are they tiny little megalomaniacs (“I am the Most Beautiful Princess in The Whole World, and all of you are my dogs! Eat the food off the floor! Eat it!”) who are beyond taking naps, but they never stop talking, and plot against you. All. Day. Long.
Four: Mommy, I think I’m going to marry Daddy when you die.
Me: I don’t think you can do that.
Four: Well, I think you should die soon, so I’ll just wait.
Me: Daddy is your Daddy. You can’t marry him.
Four: Well…YOU DID. I’m better than you.
If only my little Electra were simply plotting my demise. She’s also spying on me, breaking my spirit, and getting me in trouble.
“Daddy! Mommy took us all for sushi and said that we SHOULDN’T TELL YOU!”
“Daddy! Mommy is mad at you and told her friend she was going to KICK YOU IN THE MANCLAM!”
“Teacher! My mommy goes outside and sneaks cigarettes in her underpants!”
I spend most of my day on guard, watching for her prying eyes and razor sharp bat ears that may be tracking my every move. My home has become a POW Camp, and she is my keeper. I am frightened of the terror she could smite me with if I let my guard down for even a minute.
Did I mention that four year olds are pint sized yentas? Oy vey. The meddling! The gossip! The prying! The lecturing! She has more helpful hints and suggestions than Heloise, and none of the expertise to back it up!
“Mommy. When you wash windows, you shouldn’t stand on a chair. The chair could fall. If you fall, you could get hurt. If you get hurt, you might bleed on the floor, and then there would be blood on the white carpet, and then you’ll be really mad that you have to clean that up. So don’t stand on chairs!”
Like most Dictators who maintain an evil regime, the Four Year Old lives in a state of semi-paranoia.
“There are monsters in the washing machine room! They’re going to get me if I go to sleep!”
“If I go to school wearing this hat and sunscreen, all the kids will laugh at me, and I’ll die.”
“Those mushrooms on my plate? They’re poisoned! I can’t eat them. You eat them.”
September is almost here, and Madame Four is being shipped back to pre-school, where she will once again commune with a flock of other evil dwarfs on a semi-weekly basis. They will swap tips on parental intimidation and the oppression of lesser siblings in between snack time and macaroni necklace crafting. I haven’t determined if pre-school teachers are in league with Satan or sainted wonders, but I bow to them with great reverence, as there is no money in this world that would make me want to spend my day with 20 of these energy vampires.
Sadly for yours truly, there is little hope for this phase of development to slip into the crevices of my mind. I have another child, less than two years younger than Miss Four, and she is even more stubborn and sneaky than her sister. Truly, there is no rest for the wicked.
Oh my God, Tia. I’d laugh at this, but you know what they say about Karma. By the way, what are you doing with cigarettes in your underpants?
Oh, how I hate that this rings so true. I live in constant fear of being ‘tattled’ on by my four year old. I, however, hide my cigarettes in my bra rather than my underwear. My hope is that only the female version is like this and when Zachary turns four he’ll be nothing like his sister is.
When Prima was four she was the most vicious child alive. The second she got upset she would hit, kick, bite, punch and scratch. She threw everything in the house. She was evil indeed.
Of course, now she’s seven and she’s beta-testing her prepubescent attitude. Fuck me.
I should clarify that I don’t shove cigarettes in my underwear. She tattled on me for smoking outside IN my underwear. Denial? Not just a river in Egypt, my friends.
This should be posted as a warning in maternity wards.
I’m scared. When my nephew turned four, he cleared a whole endcap at Target in anger…while there to pick up his birthday cake. The baker asked, “Just turned four today?” Then laughed insanely…or maybe it was crying in soul crushed despair…
I can laugh now, as I am finally past this stage. Little Squirt is 5 (and a-half! she will remind me daily) and becoming a bit more human. Now I’m delving into the realm of two teens, a ‘tween that wants to be just like her big sister and the 5 year old that still rules the roost.
Yikes. T-minus one and a half years until Lauren is four. I cant tell already, she’s going to be a treat.
First, I am laughing at the image of Hitler controlling an army of four year olds. Secondly, I think this is your best post to date. Thirdish, thank you.
Oh, my! How true this is. Just count your lucky stars and praise all deities that you only have one at a time. I swear my girls are going to do me in one of these days.
I’d love to sneak some cigarettes, but haven’t been able to pick up a pack yet, because I always have the little harpies with me and don’t want to have the “do as I say, not as I do,” discussion. And I don’t want them tattling to Daddy.
I will not be one of those weepy mothers the day I send these people off to kindergarten. I will be kicking up my heels and cackling down the halls.
Malcolm – Thank you for the feedback! Sometimes I wonder if this is what people actually want to spend their free time reading.
Adina – There is not a waking moment of the day where I do not praise my maker for making me a mother of singletons. I dare not press my luck and do the cliche “try for a boy” because I’d end up with twin girls. I know it. I too will be dancing in the streets next year when the Goose goes to kindy. Cha cha cha!
Sarah – Enjoy your 2.5 year old. Erm, okay. Enjoy isn’t the right word. Consider this boot camp for 4, when she never stops talking.
Kristen – You should be sainted. Two teens? A tween? A kindergartner? This explains why you’re a basket-case. Beyond the fact that you sell baskets, I mean.
Darth – Just you wait. Muahahahah! You’re going to be there verrrry shortly.
Anna – I dunno. Was Prima’s problem that she was 4, or was it that she’s a spazz anyway? I remember her doing that not long ago. It was very enchanting.
Renae – Just think, you get to do it again in another year and a half! Whee! This is what happens when you have kids so close together…
Katherine – You are wise. Laughing at the folly of other mothers just ensures that you get it back ten-fold.
Here I had been laboring under the hope that my three year old Princess would improve with age. Thanks Tia, my naive illusions are now shattered. I can only hope I may go deaf soon.
Tia – it got worse again around the time Secunda was born. Still, I miss her being four. Seven is an evil, evil age.
Strike that. They’re all evil ages.
Anna, you are scaring me here. My daughter is 6.5 and closing in on 7 fast.
However, I can barely remember when she was four. This is probably a defence mechanism.
Oh, Tia. I wish I could laugh. The problem is, other than the sushi and the cigarettes, I’ve had nearly all these conversations and I’m too busy cowering in the corner in fear.
I thought she was bad at 3, but then the closer she got to 4, the worse she got. I hear at 5, it gets much better. Pray for me and I’ll pray for you.
At least we can share a corner to cower in. I’m 1/2 way through the 4’s, so only a few more months to go, and hopefully 5 is more magical. Or at least, she’ll go to school everyday, and be someone else’s problem for the morning. Yay!
You will be in my prayers, Lisa.
Tia!!! You make me reconsider any thought of having girls!!! I desperately hope my son will be different but it sounds like that won’t be the case. We’re still in that stage where we’re excited when he talks and shows signs of intelligence, but I understand that changes quickly as they use it to push every button you have. Great post!!!!
Karen, it’s not so bad. I mean, I do occasionally want to order up an exorcism for her, believe me. However, the really fine-tuned communication and ability to articulate exactly what she wants/feels is worth every cheeky little barb. Not long ago we were in the throws of barely-verbal tantrum land. This is fantastic (albeit sometimes bizarre) stuff!
Also? Little girls are awesome.
Oh man.
Thank you for writing this, and Anna, thanks for your comment, so I know that my four year old isn’t the only psycho out there …
I spent the first few weeks of four thinking, “this is awesome! She can talk, she’s rational, we can communicate.” And then her head spun around (completely) a few times and the siege began.
If I survive through the second one’s ‘fours’ (still 2+ years away. Joy.) I plan to start charming cobras, taming lions and running with the bulls.
Oh My GOD that is the funniest blog post i have EVER read. I feel sick with giggles. I worked in a preschool and they are all the same. In my attempt to grow up (ie have children and quit partying) i will see for myself soon. x