The day I came to terms with the fact that my daughter is that child marked a pivotal moment in my journey as a parent. It was the day I started feeling embarrassed about her behavior, questioning if there was something inherently wrong with her—or perhaps with me, as her mother, responsible for shaping her into a kind and respectful individual.
It was an ordinary day during a playdate at our home with familiar friends. My 5-year-old, Mia, and her 4-year-old companion, Lily, were racing around the couch playing tag. When Mia couldn’t catch up to Lily, she flopped down on the floor, pouting, on the verge of tears, and yelled, “You have to slow down! I won’t play anymore if you don’t!” Looking at her, I sighed, a familiar feeling washing over me. I glanced at Lily, who was always cheerful and accommodating, and that’s when it hit me—my daughter is not the easiest to like.
This incident wasn’t just a one-off; it was part of a pattern. Such scenarios happen constantly. Whether she’s by herself, with her siblings, or with friends, Mia tends to be the bossy one, the one who creates a scene in public. I’ve witnessed her throwing tantrums over the silliest things, like not being allowed to buy a gymnastics leotard when we don’t even do gymnastics! She can be disrespectful, moody, and possessive about toys, whether they belong to her or not. If things don’t go her way, she becomes impossible. She is quick to voice her opinions, often at the expense of those around her. While I dislike labeling children, it’s hard to deny that she is spirited, strong-willed, and yes, a bit bratty. Every interaction outside our home feels like navigating a minefield, uncertain of what might set her off.
As someone who tends to be a people-pleaser, this is especially tough. I strive to be kind and generous, wanting to create happiness around me. It frustrates me that my daughter doesn’t share this desire. Although many assured me that things would improve as she outgrew her toddler years, that hasn’t been my experience. She just screams louder now and has a larger vocabulary. From the very beginning, she has been a challenging child, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. Observing her alongside her peers makes it all the more evident that my independent, stubborn Mia stands apart from the rest.
I genuinely want to embrace her unique spirit without constantly comparing her to others, yet I can’t help but wish she shared some of the sweetness and amiability of other children. For those who encounter my spirited daughter, I understand if you find it hard to like her. Believe me, I sometimes struggle with it too. As her mother, I love her deeply, particularly when she’s at her best and shows her potential. I see the tender moments, like when she tries to make her baby brother laugh or shows kindness to our small dog. I cherish her moments of vulnerability, like when she whispers, “I love you, Ella,” to her little sister, or when she bravely introduces herself to new friends. I’m often showered with affection, handmade gifts, and drawings that depict me as a princess.
However, I recognize that you may only spend a brief moment with her. If you’re fortunate, you might experience her warmth and charm. But if not, you might find yourself managing her outbursts or dealing with her demands. I apologize for this. I’m genuinely trying my best.
I must believe she is trying too. On good days, I see her holding back words she knows I wouldn’t approve of, which gives me a glimmer of hope that she’ll grow into a person of strong character, just as I strive to guide her. Perhaps one day, the thought of playdates won’t fill me with dread.
In the meantime, please encourage your children to stand up to her. It’s okay if they assert themselves in play or defend their toys. In fact, I wouldn’t mind if they gave her a gentle nudge. Mia needs friends, but she also requires a dose of humility. My parental guidance has had limited success; maybe some peer pressure will serve her well.
A mom can hope, at least.