I long for the patience of a Fairy

Fairy Dog is a saint.

Seriously.

The Peach is… Crazy.

Seriously.

The Peach has spent the last week racing around the house, squealing like a little pig and chucking, with a force greater than a person her size should produce, anything she can pick up off the floor. Preferably at someone. Usually Fairy Dog. We’ve managed to curb the hitting, which was becoming a real problem, but she still hits the poor dog and he just lays there and takes it. Last night, she decided his ears and tail looked like fun and started playing with them. Then she yanked on them. Then, in a very non-gentle manner, she led Fairy Dog around the living room by his tail. She had made it all the way to the couch before we even noticed exactly what she was doing. It looked like she was just walking next to him, but then she shifted direction and we saw the grimy little digits firmly twisted up in Fairy Dog’s big, fluffy tail.

And Fairy Dog? Calmly followed her, emitting a tiny whimper when she pulled just a little too hard. And when we finally yelled at her to stop (Don’t judge me), he turned and, to the utter delight of The Peach, snuffled her face. Then he went and laid down next to My Mom.

In the past day she has thrown the following items (with great accuracy) at Fairy Dog’s head.

  • wooden blocks in various shapes and sizes
  • at least 3 couch pillows
  • underpants (Princess Punk’s I believe, I don’t have Spongebob panties)
  • 4 different shoes
  • a fork
  • a sippy cup
  • her dress up jellies (little plastic cinderella dress up shoes which, when not flying through the air towards Fairy Dog, are donned and click-clacked on the floor while she goes around in circles with her hands over her head like a ballerina)
  • My Mom’s phone
  • almost My Mom’s nook (thankfully caught her before she did that)
  • plastic stacking rings
  • cloth nesting boxes (made by My Mom and absolutely awesome)
  • various food stuffs that she decided she didn’t like/didn’t want/was compelled to get out of her sight immediately
  • 2 board books
  • 1 picture book
  • a DVD case
  • the latest vampire/werewolf/Twilight Saga-like novel Princess Punk is reading
  • several binkys, which we can never seem to find at nap time but are readily available to chuck at the dog when The Peach is awake

And these are the items that she has actually walked over and clubbed him with

  • wooden train cars (I’m not talking Thomas here, these things weigh a good pound each)
  • soccer ball
  • tennis ball (I swear, I don’t know why she doesn’t throw those, that would actually be ok, but no she walks over and konks him on the head with them)
  • a DVD case
  • Princess Punk’s phone
  • Princess Punk’s nook (didn’t catch her that time)
  • a flip flop
  • a baby doll
  • a stuffed bear
  • a large T-Rex (kind of a soft plastic. Not quite foam, but softer than regular plastic)
  • a rug (swear to god, she picked up her lamb rug off the floor and hit him with it)
  • My Mom’s footrest (a large-ish cloth cube. The Peach actually grunted when she picked it up but it’s size did not deter her from slamming it on Fairy Dog’s back)
  • her hands
  • her feet
  • and yes, her head

And he patiently lays there and winces if the objects hit him in the actual face. Since I tend to lose my temper with this child after about the second time she throws something in my general direction (or in the opposite direction if it’s something I’m trying to take away from her), I am consistently astonished by his steady trust in her, his endurance of her abuse. Maybe because she’s little enough that she hasn’t caused any permanent damage.

Or more likely, it’s because of the other things I’ve witnessed. Like The Peach walking over to him and feeding him some chewed up something, directly out of her mouth like a mama bird feeding her chicks. That was gross. And we told her not to do it again. But Fairy Dog thought it was the awesomest thing EVER.  Or her carefully putting a pillow on his head (I don’t think she could get it under his head without him getting up), covering him with a blanket and tenderly patting his back while crooning, “nigh nigh beyuh, nigh nigh…”

He adores her. Plain and simple. And unlike me (who also adores her), he puts up with anything she does, because he’s hers now and his universe revolves around her.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. movieguy41
    Sep 05, 2013 @ 19:34:25

    Sounds like an abusive relationship–battered pet syndrome.

    Reply

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