Full of Piss and Vinegar

Did anyone ever tell you that you were full of piss and vinegar when you were growing up? I must’ve heard it a million times. I was a wild child. I talked a mile a minute and often put my foot in my mouth. Belle’s like that too. Doomed from the start, she got a double dose because her daddy is the same way. Energetic and full of mischief.

Last Sunday, Belle followed around my cousin, Evan, trying to sprinkle steak seasoning into his beer. Bless his heart; he couldn’t set his drink down without her popping up out of thin air with a seasoning shaker in her hand. Smh. Sometimes I don’t know what to do with this child.

It’s always been this way. When Belle was six, she busted her head open. I rushed her to the emergency room, where we had to wait to see a doctor. When he came in the room to stitch her up, Belle said: “I thought I was going to bleed to death before you got here.” The doctor laughed and promised her she’d live to see another day.

A week later, we went back to have the stitches removed. The triage nurse offered to do it so we wouldn’t have to wait on a doctor. When the nurse went to put her hands on Belle, Belle leaned away from her and asked: “Are you qualified for this?” The nurse was nice about it but not nearly as charmed as the doctor had been.

Nothing has changed. At 13, Belle is every bit as full of piss and vinegar as she was at 6. She’s wide open all the time, kindhearted, and sassy as can be. 

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