How I learned to deal with my six-year-old drama queen

My six-year-old daughter Ella has a penchant for the dramatic. She does wonderful impressions, positively revels in the limelight and sees herself treading the boards on Broadway some day. Unfortunately however, she doesn’t leave the theatrics at drama class or performing arts club.

Ella is, and I’m sorry if this sounds a little harsh, a drama queen 24/7. While I enjoy her twirling around the house and singling at the top of her lungs, I struggle with the theatrics when she stumbles or trips up.

Once hugely overprotective and convinced everything was out to get my child, I mollycoddled her after a fall, quizzed her on every boo-boo after she crashed her tricycle into our gate and gave far too much attention to one particularly bad grazed elbow.

I’m almost ashamed to admit that between her naturally dramatic streak and my naturally anxious streak, my daughter turned into a swooning Victorian every time she bumped her knee.

My mother told me, in no uncertain terms, that Ella’s over-the-top reaction to every scrape suggested she only wanted an audience. Initially sceptical, I soon realised my mum was right.

One afternoon about six months ago, I was watching her play on her own in the back garden. Cycling in circles, she leaned a little too far to the left and came a cropper with our rose bush.

Curious to see how she’d handle it herself, I didn’t rush to her aid as I usually would. Instead I watched her pick herself up, give her knee a curious rub, straighten her helmet and climb back on. 

As sure as black is black, if myself or anyone else had been present, Ella could have convinced us she needed urgent medical attention on the strength of her wails alone.

That day marked the last time I jumped to attention when she took a tumble. I was reminded of this during the week when researchers at NUI Galway suggested that a parent’s reaction to their child’s medical misfortune could inadvertently heighten pain and distress levels in the little one.

While the psychologists are undoubtedly referring to cases of actual pain and illness, I still feel their findings apply to myself and my daughter.

Ella loves an audience and was guaranteed one every time she so much as stumbled over the hall mat, but no more.

And honestly, I can’t help but feel there’s a connection between my lack of concern and her lack of wails since I identified the major issue.

Ella has now realised that if she wants an audience she needs to give a heartstopping performance of Let It Go and not just slide off the back of the couch she was expressly told not to sit on.