I've had quite a day. My father invited several of his friends over, and they brought their grandchild. Usually, I am a kid person; I like their curiosity and their playfulness. I didn't think until today that I would truly loathe a 6-year-old child.
She is a spoiled brat. She has been raised with an iPhone, a iPad, a Leapfrogger, and everything she wants on a silver platter. I was assigned to the unfortunate task of entertaining her while the adults talked.
First, I invited her to look in my room, in order to get her out of the living room. In the hallway, she saw my collection of stuffed animals (which I don't touch, but still love dearly) and begged to have some of them. I said no, over and over, and finally got her into my room, where she saw my large collection of medals hanging on the walls. She gasped and said, "Wow, you won all of that!" I was starting to forgive her because she admired achievement when she asked, "Can I have one?" I was pissed. I looked her in the eye and asked:
"What did you deserve to get a medal?"
She paused for a second, then said:
"I never win ANYTHING!"
Isn't it crazy that this spoiled little girl thought that was an adequate explanation? It's even crazier that in a mere 24 years, this girl could become a senator and start advocating for the newest plan of ultimate equality: "achievement redistribution."
After that, she begged to have some of my other toys; I surrendered two model cats, a unicorn, and a jolly rancher in order to shut her up. I felt guilty for my toys, like I had betrayed them by indulging her selfishness. It was hardly 10 minutes later that she lost interest in them (although she revived later in order to play with me for two. straight. hours). I wonder how long my beloved toys will stay intact? A week, maybe? She doesn't appreciate the kind of emotional investment I put into my toys as a kid. She didn't even thank me.
Although that was the worst part, we went downstairs and started drawing pictures. She was bossy and entitled. She kept saying things like, "We're having fun, right?" "I'm so glad you're my friend!" "Aren't you having fun?" A phrase of Ayn Rand's kept popping into my mind: sanction of the victim. I kept trying to evade the questions, hoping not to give any verbal sanction, although I felt guilty that my actions gave her a green light. All the while we were coloring she kept trying to go back up to my room; hoping to cheat me of some more of my toys, I'm sure. After I told her, frankly, nothing would make me give up more of my possessions, she said:
"How about a hundred dollars?"
I asked her what on earth a little girl like her needed a hundred dollars for. She explained that she bought things for her friends at the school store. It didn't surprise me at all that she had no respect for her parent's money, and that she thought I could be bought. I told her that some things were priceless.
After she left, I went upstairs and practiced my violin for an hour. I drilled some scales, etudes, Mozart passages, all in order to forget about it and swallow the guilt and helpless rage for my toys and my time. I was angry that she took so much of my time away, time I'll never get back and could have invested into productive endeavors. I had so much to do today; my favorite teacher's birthday is today; I was going to make a cake to show him how much I appreciate his teaching. I still need to write program notes and study for a test. Most of all, however, I was given The Romantic Manifesto as a belated birthday gift. I was dying to read it all of today.

She was a nightmare and I still feel horrible, but right then I was appreciative of the upbringing my parents gave me. I was taught the true meaning of money. I was taught to be polite and to value honest interactions with other people, and not electronics. Most of all, I was taught the value of achievement and hard work.

If you made it to the end of this, congratulations! I apologize for writing so much. To all grandparents and future grandparents: Although you may have limited time with your grandchild, do your best to prevent them from turning into this hellish little girl. Parents: You are the ones with control. Teach your children your values. I pity this girl, because she wasn't taught any better. Don't let the public schools spoil your precious child's ideology and mind. Take their learning into your own hands and teach them in Ayn Rand's footsteps.