India is going through a phase where she is obsessed with getting married.  She talks about it all the time.  We were at the park last week and a bridal party was there shooting pictures, and she started scrambling up the rocks trying to join them in the picture.  She was very mad when I cut her mission short before she reached them.    The other day she came out with a ballet dress and a tutu over her head, and told me that she was ready to go get married.

I’m not sure where all this is coming from, but I blame the Robin Hood movie, which is one of her favorites.

She has also been talking – daily – about who she is going to marry.  For a long time it was Jafta or Kembe.  After many discussions about why that would not be possible, she set her sights on Gavin, a little boy in her class.  She talks about marrying Gavin all the time, and how she wants him to marry her.  Jafta likes to remind her that Gavin may not want to do this, and about how she needs to be “like, a little past a teenager.  Like, 44 or something.”


Anyways, this week something horrible happened.  She told Gavin her plans, and apparently Gavin rejected her proposal.  She came home devastated.  But she also came home with a new insult in her tool belt.

Every time someone hurts her feels at school, she processes her anger by coming home and hurling the insult at me.  I can always tell what is happening at school by the things she parrots back to me in frustration.  I have been the not-so-lucky recipient of her experiments with reciprocating meanness many times since she started school.  Some of her standards include “you’re not my friend anymore” and the ever popular “you’re a poopy head”. She is also a fan of the sticking out of the tongue and the sing-song nanny nanny boo boo, which always cuts like a knife.

Thanks to Gavin’s rebuff, she has a new tool in her toolbelt.  Here she is at the park, just after I informed her it was time to go home and take her nap.

Oh snap.

(I hope you caught that huff at the end.)

(And yeah. That’s my baby’s bottle laying in the sand. Keepin’ it classy.)

She has yelled some variation of “You’re not gonna marry me!” or “I’m not gonna marry you!” at me, Mark, Jafta, or Kembe about 20 times since the Gavin episode. We comfort ourselves with the fact that she doesn’t really mean it, she’s just displacing her anger and re-enacting her displaced hurt on a nearby projective object. Or something.

I have had some serious heart-to-hearts with her about how there are other fish in the sea, and how lucky a boy would be to marry her, and how she has plenty of time to figure out who she will marry.  But hell hath no fury like a preschooler scorned.