When DD was little, she decided that she did not like me, and was going to do anything she could to get rid of me. (Not kidding in the least. She refused to call me anything but "her" for over two years) When playing with her dolls, she'd make up elaborate scenes in which the mother was killed in a horrible manner every single time. Worst of all, every time the "mother" doll (also named "her") was decaptiated or some such, DD would break into a low, evil chuckle: "heh, heh, heh."
She then invented an invisible friend, whose name was Ken. Ken was "an invistable rabbit who hates *her.*" Whenever Ken appeared, DD would start a running commentary of all the horrid things that Ken was doing to me: "Ken just bited off her's head... heh, heh, heh." or "Ken just poked her in the eye and now it's bleeding... heh, heh, heh."
Ken abruptly disappeared one day when I had had enough. I announced that DD would be held responsible for any of Ken's misdeeds. DD protested the unfairness of it all, but "her" held firm, and Ken soon packed up his "invistible" bags and went elsewhere.
But then wretched Zeebree appeared. Zeebree was a stick horse zebra whose sole purpose was to bite me in the butt. (heh, heh, heh) I'd wake up with that damn stick horse beside me in bed, like some kind of twisted scene from the Godfather. DD had to "ride" Zeebree everywhere, and everywhere it went, it tormented me. At least Ken was imaginary and I didn't have to look at him.
Being held responsible for Zeebree's misdeeds did nothing to solve the problem. However, Zeebree's abrupt disappearance was a permanent solution. (I think he ran away) After a great deal of therapy and medication, I had blocked Zeebree from my mind. :-)
Two things reminded me of that period in my life today: First was that DD was in the attic last night, looking for sheets for the Halloween Play, and guess what she found? Zeebree. He's been locked away for ten years and apparently has been nursing a grudge all this time, and this time, it's personal. (Well, it was personal before, but I guess it's ultra-personal now) I think that Zeebree might have to go for a ride to the gas station and then have an appointment with a lighter Real Soon Now.
My second reminder came from my doctor. Years ago, I had DD with me when I got my flu shot, and she nearly got poked in the nose. She was examining the needle puncture my arm _very_ closely, with a totally evil grin on her face. The doctor said, "Why are you watching your Mommy get a shot? It's pokey, and it hurts her for a minute."
DD looked at him, smiled and said, "Yeah, pokey. Heh, heh, heh."
Getting my flu shot this morning, my doctor reminded me of the episode, and wondered if my daughter still felt that way about me. I assured her that things were just fine now, and that the "her" stage was over. He laughed and said that he had never seen a kid get that much enjoyment over seeing another person get a shot. (Apparently, most little kids cry in empathy)
But then again, this is the same kid who wants to use a toy stuffed white tiger and go as "Siegfried and Roy" for Halloween. She plans to wear a glittery tuxedo jacket I made last year, and put fake blood all over her neck. I'm trying to talk her out of it on the grounds of poor taste.
Kathy N-V, aka "her" (heh, heh, heh)