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As if a parent can get a child past the age of two to do anything he doesn't want to. Esecially Ammo. He has the face and temperament of an angel, underlaid by a core of pure stubborn mulishness. Ammo never did anything we wanted him to do. He didn't eat for several years, avoiding meals by sliding from his chair under the table and refusing to come out. His brother would pass scraps to him; I guess that's how he survived. One Halloween he was Dracula but refused to let me put any makeup on him or slick his hair back, moaning, "no-o-o-o-" every time I came near him, so he was the sweetest Dracula-with thick blonde waves and big blue eyes. He refused to get a haircut for an entire year---he'd agree to it and then we'd get there and he would get in the chair and these big tears would well up in his eyes and he'd slowly slide out of the kiddie seat onto the floor. It was really fascinating to watch, as if all his bones had disappeared and he'd melted. I would finally say to Lionel,the barber, "well, not this time, I guess." because it really didn't seem too important to me if he looked like Shirley Temple by his own choice. Two old crones were watching the performance one day, and one turned to the other and said-loudly, "Some parents have no control over their children. Spoiled, spoiled, spoiled." And the other said, "She'll have trouble with that one down the road." I wanted so badly to grab Lionel's razor and slit their throats, but I suppose that would have validated their opinion of our family's emotional stability. Worst of all, I never could get him to sing the role of Amahl in Amahl and the Night Visitors, although why a 10 year old would object to learning an entire opera is beyond me. But that's Ammo. |
