I remember the first time Jess lied to me. I mean, that I'm aware of. Not that silly preschool stage all kids have when they're just trying stories out to see your reaction. Mind you, it seems a bit like that again now, sometimes. At that young age, well, they haven't quite cemented the difference between fantasy and reality, have they?
No. I'm thinking about the first lie once she knew full well what she was doing. When she knew she was doing wrong, was offered the chance to back out, but just carried on regardless. Did we do something wrong back then, that led to her becoming like . . . this? A problem child, isn't that what they call it? She always was a handful; I used to think that was sweet, that it showed spirit. Now I'm scared. For her. For us.
It was Mary she lied to actually. That's right. And Mary was spitting fury at it. Shouting at the child that god didn't let bad girls, girls who lie, into heaven. Little Jess was terrified, poor lamb, by the time Mary worked up to the now classic 'Just you wait till your Father gets here! Quite what she expected me to do about it I was never too sure. Back then I'd walk in to an exasperated woman and a terrified, trembling child. Now I come in to a woman who's swallowed her rage and a cocky teenager who thinks she's won. Who thinks she can do whatever she likes without there being consequences.
Teenage kicks [a work in progress] II
More from the rambling unstructured w-i-p...
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I remember the first time Jess lied to me. I mean, that I'm aware of. Not that silly preschool stage all kids have when they're just trying stories out to see your reaction. Mind you, it seems a bit like that again now, sometimes. At that young age, well, they haven't quite cemented the difference between fantasy and reality, have they?
No. I'm thinking about the first lie once she knew full well what she was doing. When she knew she was doing wrong, was offered the chance to back out, but just carried on regardless. Did we do something wrong back then, that led to her becoming like . . . this? A problem child, isn't that what they call it? She always was a handful; I used to think that was sweet, that it showed spirit. Now I'm scared. For her. For us.
It was Mary she lied to actually. That's right. And Mary was spitting fury at it. Shouting at the child that god didn't let bad girls, girls who lie, into heaven. Little Jess was terrified, poor lamb, by the time Mary worked up to the now classic 'Just you wait till your Father gets here! Quite what she expected me to do about it I was never too sure. Back then I'd walk in to an exasperated woman and a terrified, trembling child. Now I come in to a woman who's swallowed her rage and a cocky teenager who thinks she's won. Who thinks she can do whatever she likes without there being consequences.