Super Brat

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” Rosa ran on to the deck where her father was laying on a lounge chair reading the Top Sail Times. He thought he would have a few moments of peace, before all the children would be tucked into bed and he and Sybil could do something they rarely do, and that was to have a glass of port and watch the sunset over Surf City.

Any thought of that suddenly went up in smoke with the appearance of Rosa. “Yes, how can I help you?”

George mistakenly thought that if he adopted a stern voice, the tone would get Rosa to behave, but as always he was badly mistaken. Rosa stopped for a brief second and looked at her father strangely. “Are you ok, daddy?” she asked sounding a little concerned which for her was amazing.

“Yes, I am Rosa. What is it I can do for you?”

“Well, for a moment I thought you got one of the little frogs on the beach stuck in your throat,” and then believing she was being funny burst out laughing. George didn’t laugh along with her. He looked at his watch. It was 7.30. “Daddy,” began Rosa again, “if the sun goes to sleep an hour later, then why can’t I?”

George closed his eyes and repeated the phrase ‘why me’ to himself, hoping that when he opened his eyes he would find he was dreaming. But instead, when he did open his eyes, Rosa was standing at the end of his lounge chair with her wings crossed and a silly grin on her face. She knew she had yet again stumped her father. “Ask your mother,” he blurted out knowing full well that it was because of Sybil that Rosa had run out onto the deck. He realised that when Rosa shook her head.

At that moment, Sybil came out of the dining room closing the sliding glass doors behind her which Rosa had left open. She stood there not saying a word, wondering if George for the first time since Rosa was born 9 years ago, would take her side. But as always, she was mistaken.

“Rosa wants to stay up an extra hour,” he said to her and then gulped when he saw the expression on his wife’s face.

“No, she can’t,” she said sternly, “Rosa, you have school tomorrow.” And then taking a deep breath, quickly thought of a brilliant rebuttal to whatever Rosa was going to say and added, “the sun doesn’t have to go to school tomorrow and you do!” The other two looked at Sybil in awe. For the first time ever, Rosa was stumped. But Sybil being Sybil, she couldn’t just leave it there. Believing she had gained the upper hand with her daughter added, “plus, Mrs Benjamin called to tell me you were a super brat in class today.”

“A super brat?” asked George sitting up slightly in his chair as Rosa stood with her head down, “super brat,” he repeated, “why were you a super brat today in class?”

“Because, I wouldn’t say I’m sorry.”

“Oh dear! What did you do that Mrs Benjamin wanted to you apologise for?”

“Because I threw my workbook into the garbage can in the back of the classroom.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I didn’t want to study anymore.” Then, taking a deep breath, she looked at her father hoping to gain some sympathy as he had on more than one occasion told her he never liked school. It didn’t work.

“That was wrong for you to do that.”

“But daddy, you told me you didn’t like school.”

“Yes, there were some classes I didn’t like. But I never threw my book into the garbage can. What did you say to Mrs Benjamin when she asked you to take the book out of the trash can?”

“I said nothing. I walked over and took it out.”

“And did she ask you to apologise?”

“Yes she did, daddy.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said it was wrong for me to do that.”

“But why didn’t you say I’m sorry, Rosa?” Sybil decided it was time for her to be the parent, which she felt George wasn’t.

“Because I wasn’t sorry, mummy.”

“You weren’t sorry for throwing the book into the garbage can?”

“No daddy, but I was wrong to do that.” George looked at Sybil as if to say that sounded fine, but Sybil knowing George very well, wasn’t done.

“But why weren’t you sorry for throwing the book in the garbage?”

“Because I wasn’t,” replied Rosa beginning to rock on her feet which meant she was expecting the conversation to end in her favour.

“But Rosa dear,” began George and Sybil rolled her eyes, “but Rosa dear, you said it was wrong to do that.”

“Yes daddy.”

“But isn’t that the same as saying I’m sorry.”

“No daddy,” Rosa began to rock quicker.

“Ok, Rosa. Please explain the difference to your mother and I.” Sybil smiled slightly, pleased her husband included her.

“It was wrong to throw it in the garbage can,” explained Rosa, “but I wasn’t sorry.” George shook his head. “You see daddy, I should’ve thrown it into the garbage can in the hallway and in this way Mrs Benjamin wouldn’t have seen it.”

“But she would’ve asked you where your book was, wouldn’t she?”

“Magic,” replied Rosa grinning from ear to ear.

“Let’s go to bed,” Sybil again tried to exert her authority.

“But mummy, you never told me why I can’t go to sleep later.”

“Yes, I did, little one. The sun doesn’t have school tomorrow morning and you do.”

“Plus,” interrupted George, “you threw your school book in the trash and for that reason alone you should go to bed now.”

“So, if I don’t throw my book in the trash tomorrow can I stay up later?” Rosa pleaded.

“You will have to wait until tomorrow,” George thought he had threaded the needle well, but Sybil didn’t think so.

“No!” Sybil had had enough, “you have school all this week.”

“Then maybe on Friday night. I don’t have school on Saturday.”

George looked at his watch and then up at the sun. He knew full well that the sun would soon disappear behind some of the houses and it would begin to get dark, and any hope he had of having a nice drink with his wife would quickly evaporate.

“Yes, you can,” he replied hoping to end the conversation. Rosa turned and ran indoors slamming the sliding glass door behind her. Sybil put her wings on her hips and looked at George. “Sorry dear. I did that because I thought you and I could sit out here and have a glass of port together.”

Sybil shook her head and went back inside to make sure Rosa said her prayers and climbed into bed instead of running into Timmy’s room and annoying him. George lay back on his lounge chair and folded his paper. He watched some of his congregants running around trying to catch some hermit crabs and he smiled. The sliding glass door opened a few minutes later and Sybil made another appearance, but this time she was holding two glasses and a bottle of port. “I just want you to know that I will join you in a glass of port, but that’s it. The last time we did this the result was Brenda who still thinks Rosa is her mother!” George laughed. Life was good.