Drama

Saturday afternoon I called to see if one Daisy N., age 5, was available for a neighborhood stroll. She was, and we headed out to visit a total of four neighborhood parks, and also a comics store, the library, and a cafe where Daisy sat quietly munching a brownie and reading a Looney Tunes comic book as nonchalantly as any twentysomething hipster.

While at the third park of the day, a little girl named Promise was nice enough to share a swing with Daisy, and even offered help pushing as Daisy is still mastering the art of pumping. Promise was a master pumper and once she really got going she started hollering "Oh my gosh! I'm going too high! I'm going to fall off! My hair looks crazy!"

Daisy regarded Promise coolly and said "Why don't you just stop pumping?"

It was at this point that Daisy and I had the "drama queen" conversation (although I did not use that exact term). I explained to Daisy that Promise was just being dramatic. "It's like how you're sometimes dramatic when you cry," I said, raising an eyebrow at her. She gave me the sort of sidelong glance that indicated she knew what I was talking about.

I don't know when you develop that form of expression, but it's there by kindergarten.