"Helo Diyury"...Shocking Ramblings of My 6 y/o Girl

So this weekend we bought a girly girl notebook and some gel pens as a bribe, erm, incentive towards good behavior on the premise that the girl likes to write.

As I glanced over her shoulder this morning at church, I wanted God to smite down her little thought process.

LMNOB is 6, remember, a mere six years of age.

Helo diyury,

I wish i code [could] Love a boyfrend. but How?
I cowde [again, could] pray to the Lrod [Lord - a little transposition
there].

No, no, no, no, NO!

All day long my melodramatic, mama worrying wheels have been spinning on this one.

SIX - She's six, she canNOT be thinking about that yet!


Oh dear Lord, no. She's deriving her sense of worth based on her success with the opposite sex. Crap - she'll marry the first man that comes along and pays her any attention.

It's those books that the teacher bumped her up to. They're too emotionally mature for her and now they've primed her to tween-age angst.

It's a sign. A sign that she's not having enough positive interactions with her father and is seeking out male attention to plug that daddy shaped hole. Must talk with Charlie Brown.
And then...
WTHeck kind of spelling is this? She reads 4th grade books, and yet writes like an avid LOLspeaker??

No matter. So what did I do? I let it fester all day in my brain.

Tonight, before evening prayers, I told LMNOB that I'd seen what she'd written in church and that I wanted to discuss it with her. She was embarrassed, and grunted repeatedly and kicked me from underneath her mountain of blankets (her own self medication of her propioceptive issues - I honestly do not know how she doesn't spontaneously combust at night).

"Hey...I know, sweetheart - it's private and I promise you I wasn't snooping, you were right there in the open, remember? I just happened to see it while you were writing."

I got a one-two with a grunt and a kick. Then she shrunk from me and retreated into the solace that only a blanket can offer for a six year old - you know, because if you can't see them, they aren't really there, right?

"Honey, don't be embarrassed, or think that you're in trouble...I just want to find out more about what this means to you.

More grunting and kicking.

"Heeeey...this is just like Junie B. is [Almost] a Flower Girl - at the beginning of the book, her mom is talking to her about sort of the same thing."

LMNOB's head popped out, and indignantly muttered, "Yeah, but Junie B was only in kindergarten!"

Seriously, my unspoken thought process went something along these lines:
1. Haha, made ya talk to me. I knew my inner nerd could tap into yours; and
2. Oh, the horror of my obtuse disregard of that critical distinction, you are so very right.

To make a long story shorter, we talked. And basically, she's lonely - not fitting in with her peers as well as she could, and her one BFF neighbor-girl schoolmate has paired up with a boy at recess, leaving LMNOB alone. So a boyfriend is what she thought she needed, when in fact any friends will do to help her feel better about herself.

I'm worried about my girl. Academically she is excelling. Developmentally she is progressing (no more fecal matter issues, and her core strength is improving). But socially, it's like she is retreating into herself and growing more and more socially backwards. More tantrums with us at home, and more crippling shyness with others.

Case in point...

Last Wednesday's incident.

It's overwhelming. Mothering is hard enough. Adding special needs just plain sucks sometimes.