How to tell if your child's perfectionism is likely to lead to a career in the arts

To really get this post, you must first understand how our little set-up works. Due to the expense of daycare and the state's refusal to let four-year-olds into kindergarten, Ambriel and I only spend about 15 hours a week apart. While this arrangement is great for alleviating my feelings of guilt over failing to be a stay at home mom, it means that all of my homework has to be completed with my little sidekick present.

Luckily for me, I am the Supreme Queen of Oblivion and can tune out just about anything when I'm really concentrating. Now before you go thinking that I'm bragging about some sort of superior discipline or focus, I should tell you that I inherited this trait directly from my father . You should never try to impart or gather essential information from either of us if we are watching television, reading, looking at something, completing a task, or even thinking intently unless you have first gotten us to make and hold eye contact and answer an initial question in a coherent manner. Just ask my mom how difficult it is to talk to us.

So when I'm sitting on my couch working on my laptop, I hardly hear the adventures of Dora, Angelina, Brother and Sister Bear, or Caillou in the background and I'm generally unaware of what exactly Ambriel is playing with her toys, even when some part of me is co-opted into the playing field. Ambriel has learned to put her hands on my cheeks to turn my head to look at her in order to bring me back into her world. She has also learned, however, that there are chinks in my armor of oblivion, like my ability to always hear if she is doing anything that is likely to end in broken bones, toys, or furniture.

Because of this oblivion, when I do emerge from an academic fog, from the need to eat or go somewhere, I have a tendency to just start talking without any regard for what Ambriel is doing at the moment. As an obedient child, she usually jumps up and does whatever I ask her to do, but occasionally she gets really frustrated.

Ambriel: Fishsticks, Momma! You made me forget what I was saying!

Me: What do you mean?

Ambriel: I was about to make my doll say something, but now I can't remember what it was! (glaring)

Me: Well I'm sure you can think of something else for her to say.

Ambriel: No! I can't. That was the perfectest thing she was going to say and nothing else will ever be as good. Ever! You've ruined my life!

Me: Don't you think you're being a bit dramatic?

Ambriel: (crossed arms and sulkiness)

Now I know she says she's going to be a veterinarian, a doctor, and a super hero, but I think her overreactions to anyone interrupting her creative process point to something just a bit more artsy and temperamental, probably in Hollywood :)