"I Winned!"

I've got a competitor on my hands.

photo c/o sweatyguineapig.com

EARLY this morning I heard a frantic scream coming from Tessa. I forced myself out of the dream I was having and stumbled into her room. She was sobbing, so I put my arms around her to comfort her. "It's alright, Sweetie. You're okay."

"I have to tell you my dream," she got out with difficulty.

"Just relax and go back to sleep."

"No. I have to tell you my dream."

"Okay," I replied, realizing I wasn't getting back to bed until I heard the horror that currently racked her soul.

In between sobs she explained, "Dad and Cole were eating fast. And I was eating slow." She finished with a good cry as I hugged her and told her she was alright. She calmed down enough to go back to sleep for a little while.

That girl.

Everything is a competition. Usually it's a game no one knew they were playing until she's rubbing it in your face sing song style with, "I winned! You missed!" It's not pretty if I try to pull the same thing with a game she didn't know she was involved in. "I'm not playing that game!" There are also times when her drive comes out in an actual game.

She does not take losing well --most 4 year olds don't. But she makes it obvious that she wants to do it all faster than anyone else. Her father fully admits that she must get the competitive gene from him, because if any of you have ever seen me play a sport.... well, let's just say if I ever was competitive, I had to let that one go waaaaay back if I wanted to keep my self esteem in tact.

Tessa's Grandma M gave her Candyland for her birthday. She announced before every game that she was going to win, and the whining would start if she thought there was a possibility she wouldn't. After winning the first time, and then the second time, Grandma gave her a talk about what we do if we don't win. Tessa nodded and agreed that we shouldn't cry or be mad, but after a moment's hesitation she added, "But I always win." And, dangit, she does always win Candyland --fair and square. She might have her dad's luck too, but one of these days it's going to run out on Candyland and we'll see how it goes.

So, back to the "nightmare". What we find scary is relative to our own experience. I might not understand this one, but I remember a couple years ago hearing her crying in her sleep, running to find out what was wrong, and then hearing her sob, "My cookie." Someone taking my treat? --that's a nightmare I can relate to.

I'm learning that this competitive nature may be here to stay. I'm fine with that as long I can teach her how to be a gracious loser....and a gracious winner. One day she'll figure out how where she wants to channel this intensity. I'm excited to watch.