I dedicate this post to my Gram,
Merlin Lorene Cunningham Shaffer, 10/20/17-5/22/13. The giant rocks on her tiny
fingers from her adoring husband were the LEAST spectacular thing about her.
Love you, Gram.
Z has a history of jewelry…interest.
So, when my favorite talismanic rhinestone necklace
disappeared, I had a pretty good idea of the perp. I also knew it would do
exactly zero good to question said individual. Like, have you ever tried to
convince a narcissist of something that doesn’t fit their view of reality? Or
tried to get your Tupperware back from – oh, wait, you don’t know her…
Z is the most convincing person you may ever meet. Unless I
have 100% conviction to back me up, I don’t even broach any marginal subjects.
In fact, I almost took her to have her hearing checked out
because girlfriend is so convincing she doesn’t even hear you if she isn’t tryna hear what you are saying. Over
the course of several days her ignoring me and then saying, casually, “Oh,
sorry’ [but being, definitely, not sorry] happened so frequently that I became
concerned. Schedule a hearing test? Sure, until I realized she was testing me. Cheeky.
Had I asked her about my necklace, the conversation would
have gone like so:
“Say, Z, you haven’t seen my special blue sparkly necklace
have you”
Wide-eyed: “No.”
[Possibility that cat has batted necklace behind shelf
enters mind of mother.] “Okay.” [Result: Daughter knows Mother is not
omniscient.]
For contrast, let’s examine an interaction wherein FSM knows
the facts with certainty:
The setting is the walk home from school last Friday.
Z announces, nonchalantly, “Mama, Mrs. S said we should tell
our parents we are supposed to go to pizza night tonight.”
“Oh, really?” I query, knowing that the event in question is
entirely optional – and geared toward the upper elementary classes. “Should I
speak with Mrs. S about that?”
“Well, she didn’t really say…I’m not sure what she said,
exactly.”
“Did she say you should go to pizza night?”
“…No.”
Did she feel like she was telling the truth when she told me
what her teacher said? No. Z admitted she hadn’t been thinking about that
(truth), just wanting pizza.
We don’t want our families to live in a climate of
suspicion. This is a struggle when a family member has an attachment disorder!
I do want to show Z, though, that lying is something that will be discovered
and is not an effective means of communication. So, in this sort of context
(grey areas of truth) I only want to ask her questions to which I basically
know the answers. I don’t want to teach her that she can successfully fool her
mother and take things with impunity.
Also, gimme back my necklace!
Ahem.
Not only was this necklace Most Spectacular, it had been
given to me by Swan Ayi to remind me of her friendship during a thorny time.
I’d clutched that necklace through a series of “Clutch Pearls!” moments, trust
me.
Figure I – Most Spectacular Necklace (circled)
I searched far and wide. I can find anything at any time.
Because my house is soooo clean. Not.
It is tiny, though, so there’s not that many places to look.
One day my precious necklace suddenly appeared on my
(locked) closet floor, where it had decidedly not been before – and precisely where it might have been slipped under the
door by small fingers.
But, meanwhile, we’d begun a conversation about the
existence of “Finding Fairies.” Z’s eleven-year-old brother contends that,
“fairies aren’t real, except the tooth fairy,” but we gals felt pretty confident
about these FFs.
I decided to do a little experiment.
Z wrote a note to the FFs about my necklace and how it had
disappeared. We put it by her bed with some little gifts – flowers, sparkles,
etc. The very next morning, there the necklace was!
What does this all mean? Like some other Z/truth conundra, this feels like a grey area I am unqualified to elucidate.
The whole thing, though, did feel a wee bit…fun.
Confrontation avoidance? For once not feeling obliged to Lecture? Something about magic
and second chances?
Love,
Full Spectrum Mama
