"You should not have done that," I said to my wife, sitting down across from her.
"I didn't have any choice in the matter," she replied.
"I know. She was in the library, again."
"Poor child, I thought that's where she might have gone. Was she asleep?"
"No," I replied, remembering my young daughter's vehement protests that she was not sleepy, despite the fact that she was almost asleep. "Did you have to tell her now?"
"She asked. That girl is too perceptive by half. What did she say?"
"'No, Daya, I hate him! I won't go, not ever!'" I quoted tiredly. My wife sighed. Raising a child brought new meaning to the phrase 'May the sins of the father be visited on the son.' Our daughter was too much like either of us for comfort.
"I hoped she would have taken it better. I had hoped that she wouldn't have to be told, for a while at least."
What she meant, but didn't say, was that she wished the matter could have waited until after our daughter had had a change to forget or, at least, heal from the loss of her two friends. They were missing, more likely dead. They had been caught up in political problems. Despite continually explaining what had occurred, our little girl refused to believe that her friends were dead. She said that they were lost and only need be found. On top of that -- we had only heard news of this disaster a few weeks ago -- now there was this new problem. Not her best birthday ever.
"Well, she is your daughter. Would it surprise you if she broke with tradition as well?" I asked.
"My daughter? Who is it that takes her camping? Catching bugs? Riding? Tells her how to behave and keeps her busy all the time? No, love, I think she's your daughter."
"So I spend time with my little girl. Who was it that got her out of the trouble last week? What exactly did she do?" Our little girl should have been a boy. For the amount of trouble she caused, it amazed me she hadn't gotten into worse trouble than she had already.
"Someone called her 'little' and she deigned to prove other wise."
"That four-year-old has more pride that the worst tiaka."
"That's why she reacted the way she did. She certainly comes by it honestly."
"What do you mean?"
"Your family has enough pride for the most stuck up, addle brained, royal brat that was ever born. Not to mention that they're thrice as stubborn."
"True, too true. What's to be done about her?"
"Is she sleeping now?" my wife asked after a few moments.
"I put her to bet. She'll probably cry herself to sleep."
"At least she has that release. Maybe some day they will come to like each other. Perhaps they will even become friends."
"Part of the problem is that the boy didn't exactly endear himself to our little one. She might not mind playing in the mud, but I think she prefers to get it on her self without the assistance."
My wife laughed. "That is one way of putting it, but you have an excellent point. I only wish it didn't have to happen so soon after what happened happened."
"She'll live, but I completely agree. If you're concerned over whether or not she blames you, don't. She asked for you when I put her to bed."
"Thank you. I should go up if only to turn off the light and close her book." My wife stood and left me to think about other things.