TM 236: What does respect mean to you?
Jean crosses her legs into a lotus position, wraps a hand around the toes of each foot, and rocks back on the carpet of her bedroom.
"All right," she says, "I want to do this right. From the start." She looks down into a pair of wide brown eyes. "My name is Jean, and I might not be very good at this. But I just want to tell you. . .Hey!" The deceptively mobile ball of fur that surrounds (is?) Jean's newly acquired Corgi puppy rockets into her lap. "No, no, don't. Don't!" She tries to pick him up, and deposit him back on the floor in front of her. But he wiggles, furiously, out of her hands. Jean lets out a frustrated sigh, and lies down on her back -- at which point he darts out his little tongue and starts licking her face.
"Lloyd! No!" she cries out, then claps her hand over her mouth -- you're never supposed to say your pet's name when you're angry, because then it won't come to you. She saw that on a show. "Wait!" She sits up and tries to set the puppy on the floor in front of her. He launches back into her lap, starts to nibble at her arm -- and Jean surrenders, giggling as she holds the warm, wiggly body in her arms. "All right, cute boy, you win --" She lies back on the floor again, letting him lick her face, as she goes on talking.
"But listen to me, okay -- it's not going to be like this all the time. Because you're sweet, and you're cuddly, and I'm glad that you love me. But I want you to respect me, too. And that means I have to say 'no' sometimes. We're going to have rules, and -- and -- discipline. Which -- oh, hey, cutie -- who's a good boy?" -- as he rolls on to her stomach. Scratching him on the head, she says, "I'm not very good at rules. I just --" Scratching the puppy's head "--I feel like people should just know, sometimes, when they're doing things they shouldn't. And they should -- not do them. How complicated is that, you know? I don't think it's very hard. But sometimes I think it makes me not very good. At the leader thing. It's not natural for me. I'm not smarter than anyone else; I don't have better strategies, I don't have big ideas. I've got some power, I guess, but it's not like I can ever use it. And so --" Jean stops herself, and giggles. "God, here I am, getting neurotic at my dog."
She bends down and kisses Lloyd's forehead, as he squirms and whimpers, happily -- she thinks it's happily. She doesn't know all the sounds he makes, yet -- and the psychic vibrations small mammals put out don't tend to be particularly helpful. "I promise you won't have to listen to too many more of these monologues," she says, ruffling his coat with her fingers. "Well -- maybe a few more. I either throw all my insecure crap at you, or Logan has to deal with it. Or Hank does. I can't act like that in front of other people. I need them to respect me. You see that, right?"
She looks down into the puppy's wide, soulful eyes -- just as she feels a warm, wet sensation spreading against her knee. "Oh, baby," she sighs. "If you just did what I think you did --"
That settles it. Like it or not, she's going to have to work on saying no. If not for the sake of respect, for the sake of her carpet.
"All right," she says, "I want to do this right. From the start." She looks down into a pair of wide brown eyes. "My name is Jean, and I might not be very good at this. But I just want to tell you. . .Hey!" The deceptively mobile ball of fur that surrounds (is?) Jean's newly acquired Corgi puppy rockets into her lap. "No, no, don't. Don't!" She tries to pick him up, and deposit him back on the floor in front of her. But he wiggles, furiously, out of her hands. Jean lets out a frustrated sigh, and lies down on her back -- at which point he darts out his little tongue and starts licking her face.
"Lloyd! No!" she cries out, then claps her hand over her mouth -- you're never supposed to say your pet's name when you're angry, because then it won't come to you. She saw that on a show. "Wait!" She sits up and tries to set the puppy on the floor in front of her. He launches back into her lap, starts to nibble at her arm -- and Jean surrenders, giggling as she holds the warm, wiggly body in her arms. "All right, cute boy, you win --" She lies back on the floor again, letting him lick her face, as she goes on talking.
"But listen to me, okay -- it's not going to be like this all the time. Because you're sweet, and you're cuddly, and I'm glad that you love me. But I want you to respect me, too. And that means I have to say 'no' sometimes. We're going to have rules, and -- and -- discipline. Which -- oh, hey, cutie -- who's a good boy?" -- as he rolls on to her stomach. Scratching him on the head, she says, "I'm not very good at rules. I just --" Scratching the puppy's head "--I feel like people should just know, sometimes, when they're doing things they shouldn't. And they should -- not do them. How complicated is that, you know? I don't think it's very hard. But sometimes I think it makes me not very good. At the leader thing. It's not natural for me. I'm not smarter than anyone else; I don't have better strategies, I don't have big ideas. I've got some power, I guess, but it's not like I can ever use it. And so --" Jean stops herself, and giggles. "God, here I am, getting neurotic at my dog."
She bends down and kisses Lloyd's forehead, as he squirms and whimpers, happily -- she thinks it's happily. She doesn't know all the sounds he makes, yet -- and the psychic vibrations small mammals put out don't tend to be particularly helpful. "I promise you won't have to listen to too many more of these monologues," she says, ruffling his coat with her fingers. "Well -- maybe a few more. I either throw all my insecure crap at you, or Logan has to deal with it. Or Hank does. I can't act like that in front of other people. I need them to respect me. You see that, right?"
She looks down into the puppy's wide, soulful eyes -- just as she feels a warm, wet sensation spreading against her knee. "Oh, baby," she sighs. "If you just did what I think you did --"
That settles it. Like it or not, she's going to have to work on saying no. If not for the sake of respect, for the sake of her carpet.