My Mother's Granddaughter

I know this'll come as no shock to anyone who has kids (or has ever met any kids) . . . but they can act awfully different around others than they do around their parents. Greg and I will actually be making plans for later in the evening than the girls usually stay up, and when one of us voices concerns about the sheer craziness and off the charts grumpiness that hits after 7PM, the other will remind, "It won't be a problem, other people will be around." And true to form, our daughters hold it together an hour or two later than they'd ever dream of being civil for at home.

The biggest discrepency I see is Annie around me (and only me) vs. Annie around my Mom. It's like two completely different children. One easily set off and quick to snap, the other a picture of perfect preschooler intent on learning new stuff and saying adorable things.

My daughter: Basically now refuses to acknowledge that there is a set standard how the rest of the English speaking world forms their letters . . . and definitely will not actually attempt to write any such letters.
My mother's grandchild: Comes home with worksheets filled with practiced letter formation. She proudly shows off her page of F's to anyone who'll give her a second glance.

My daughter: We'll be reading a book, and if I dare stop on a simple word and ask her what the first sound is, she'll dramatically throw the book down and storm off while yelling, "I don't want to sound stuff!"
My mother's grandchild: Grandma will proudly look up from a book they're looking at together and exclaim, "That's like the twentieth word she's sounded out all by herself . . . she's reading these so well we're going to move on to sight words next week!"

My daugther: Turns her nose up at new foods, and even some old reliables . . .
My mother's grandchild: Comes home practically dyed pink from eating numerous raw tomatoes out of Grandma's garden all afternoon. Apparently eating them just like they were apples. And for lunch had a giant serving of brocolli with her noodles.

My daughter: Gets so grumpy in the afternoon (although refuses to nap, no matter what we've tried) that we're all either walking on eggshells or pulling out our hair in frustration with her sheer unreasonableness.
My mother's grandchild: "She was perfect! Everyone thought she was so charming!"

My daughter: Yells at her sister, "Ellie, STOP looking at me! Be nice! I'm not going to play with you NEVER again!"
My mother's grandchid: "Oh, my little dear, are you okay? Oh, come here my sweet little dear . . ." as Grandma coos, "Oh, she is so sweet with her little sister . . ."

My daughter: "Annie, how did preschool go?" "Fine." "What did you do?" "Nothing." "Did you have fun?" "Yeah."
My mother's grandchild, "Hey Grandma! I went to preschool today and we learned about apples, and the letter A, and the color red, and I learned a new song . . . do you want to hear it?"

Moral to the story: I'm sending Annie to live with my parents when she's a preteen.