‘And though she be but little, she is fierce.’
My friend Patrick recently sent me a link to the met office’s list of future storm names. For I: Storm Imogen. Yes, I thought, what a perfect name for a storm. But, also, hasn’t Storm Imogen already hit, many times?
It’s true, you can tantrum. You can huff. You can bear a grudge. You can give the most withering looks. When Storm Imogen hits it is loud, and a little violent. You stamp that right foot with indignation and your voices ratchets up like a crazy housewife (like your mama, I fear, when I’m not my best self). You are, we often say, a very eloquent cross person, very specific in your grievances. When you do not want to wear your coat on the Gruffalo trail and I tell you you can take it off in the car you stamp that foot and yell into the Colin Glenn: “I do not want to wear it in the Deep DARK WOOD!” You add syllables when you’re cross, as well as volume, your piercing, rising tone vibrating off the trees. When you do not want to wear a hair bobble at breakfast (you never want to wear a hair bobble) you yell in mounting disgust :”That. Hair. Bobble. Is TOO SPARKLY for me!” (This morning, you simply insisted train drivers don’t wear hair bobbles, and that was that.)
You like to be charmed. You like a little effort to be made. You are open to bribes, deals and offers. You’re anyone’s for a chocolate button.
You like to mimic the faces of the characters in any books we read. Your favourite, of course, ‘This is the bear all cold and cross’, a posture you adopt away from the books, whenever it matches your mood.
Your mood: both/and.
Both the stormiest, and the sunniest girl around.
It’s true, you can tantrum. You’re that kind of girl. But you’re also a yes please and thank you and sorry kind of girl. A kiss, hug kind of girl. A dancing in the supermarket kind of girl. A laugh-until-you-choke kind of girl. A merrymaker. A reveller. A celebrator of life, and of yourself.
You have a fondness for men, particularly butchers. You bond with people, often, by roaring like a dinosaur.
It was BLUE day yesterday at your sister’s school. As we got into the car Olivia said “We are supposed to Be Loving and Understanding to Everyone, but Imogen’s not doing it.” Ha. “Well,” I replied, “Imogen is often loving and understanding, but she’s still learning, just like all of us.”
Said sister (victim to the violence) is mostly your partner in crime, your crazy playmate. Although you have a very particular, practical kind of Arnold nature, it is curiously complemented with this wild imagination. I wonder if your whimsical big sister has nurtured that in you? You are often lost in other worlds, bestowing names and powers on each other, solving problems and mysteries and saving the world, all before breakfast.
That Arnold nature, though, has you doing 50 piece jigsaws, has you tidying up, has you noticing details I never would and figuring out how things work… it makes you physically capable in ways that are surprising for a 3-year-old. I may recognise myself in your Mullan-face and your wild hair but your daddy sees you straightening everything up and thinks “That’s my girl!”.
That hair, of course, is commented on by everyone you meet. You hate to have it touched or tamed. That may change but for now it’s nice to have your company, wee frizz.
So happy birthday to our little boss lady, may you always find yourself worth celebrating.