Counter-intuitive, but I actually really like it when kids misbehave. I don't mean it as in, if the kid is a straight up sociopath or causes harm to others, but I like a child that talks back, acts impertinent and does whatever they want. I don't approve of them being disruptive like screaming in public during an event or something, because that genuinely intrudes on my comfort, but if they're just playing and running around, I don't mind. Kids are kids. Kids are literally wired to do that. I'd still teach mine that there are moments when it's better not to, but I just could never get mad at a child for being... a child.
Because I wish I could've been that kid. I was always very independent and I would do whatever the fuck I want once I was left alone, but when adults were there, and especially at home, I was always a well-behaved girl.
My sister (the older one of the two, aged 10) has a classmate who is both a troublemaker and a bit of a class clown. He's from a difficult family and my sister is annoyed by him, so are teachers because they have trouble handling the kid. He sometimes does shitty stuff but I find him infinitely funny. He's obviously very smart. Even if he goes through life sometimes causing real shit, I think I'll always feel a kind of affectionate admiration because he just has the nerve to be an annoying little shit.
Keep being a little asshole, kiddo. You're real. You're a raw stone. Just don't harm others, keep goodness in your heart, learn to behave when it's needed, and you'll be an absolute lovable menace to be around.
***
I also love watching Horrid Henry. I didn't get to see that show as a kid and only discovered it as an adult thanks to... well, my sisters watching Netflix, but I find Henry really endearing as a character. I loved Crayon Shin-chan. Still do. I'm a huge South Park fan and even though Eric Cartman is a straight up sociopath, it's played for laughs.
I just wish I could've been this kind of godawful kid.
But I was too afraid of not being loved anymore.
I probably wrote about it once that at age 8, I would often watch France's version of Supernanny (RIP Kalthoum Sarraï, still missing you, Sylvie ain't cutting it for me), and when my parents would be around, I'd make remarks on how I don't behave like that, or ask if I was as bad as those kids.
Mom would get annoyed and say:
It's not about you. It's about this family, not about Hi'iaka.
Thanks for the misunderstanding. I was just trying to indirectly ask you if I was justified in constantly worrying that I was a burden, but... apparently subtext didn't land.
I don't remember when I stopped doing that.
***
I was always afraid of misbehaving with my mother. I don't recall I got punished a lot as a kid, but there were days she was in a mood... and I could never quite know when she'd be receptive to me, or when she'd go "I'm busy", while typing on her computer, or acting irritated, and whenever I was getting into health anxiety spirals and asking questions, it'd annoy her. The few times she was genuinely angry, I was crying and shaking because of how scared and overwhelmed I was.
My brother says the same. That when she's mad, she's proper scary. He's got a few punishments of his own as well, once notably for having lied to her, but... I can never quite know if he's as affected as me. I think he's probably as sensitive as both our mom and I, but he hides it behind a mask of coldness, abysmal emotional intelligence, and sometimes words that are awkward attempts at helping but just end up cutting deeper.
I don't blame him, though. He once said that I "loved being miserable" at 16 and I didn't speak to him for years, but he does love me. He just is absolutely godawful at showing his love. Pretty sure that's what cost him his ex who is like a big sister figure to me.
***
For some reason I remember being three and feeling like my parents didn't love me anymore whenever they would get mad at me. I don't know why it took me so atrociously long to understand that one can love and be mad at the same time, and why it still can greatly trigger me as an adult whenever someone raises their voice or is upset with me.
It's strange, but I could talk back at teachers or ask questions they didn't like without much of an issue. I was always that kid in the class who'd every now and then point that the teacher spelled wrong (some actually thanked me, some kinda side-eyed me for it and then erased), or the one who would ask "why are we doing this?".
I would draw in class while listening. I would, like any other little girl, get a bit chatty with my friends. I was a daydreamer, too, when I'd get bored, back when I was about six years old, and I ended up replacing it with my scribbles. Because if I daydream and get scolded for it, but I'm still bored as shit because I understood everything in a split second, might as well do something with my hands.
And anyway, as a creative starts to age a little, they start getting their ideas out of their head and into paper.
Once I remember that we were doing "writing". It was CE1 (second grade). I had just come back to the mainland from the islands, and it was winter. The teacher I had that year was a white lady who probably married a Vietnamese guy because there was absolutely nothing Vietnamese to her. Mrs Nguyen.
We were doing A, B, C... in cursive... and I was greatly annoyed by it. I didn't get why we were fucking practicing writing when we were supposed to already know how to write. I mean, we are writing all day, why are we even practicing cursive?
So I asked:
Teacher, why are we doing writing? Are we still learning alphabet like babies?
Nothing prepared me for how much she would hate my question and call me cheeky.
To her, it was probably a challenge of her authority. To me, it was just asking because I was mildly pissed with the fact that we were practicing something we supposedly already knew.
I didn't know at the time that rhetorical questions were a thing, so when she'd ask one, I'd just reply... "yes"?
You're cheeky, Hi'iaka.Wait, that's rude?
My parents had not taught me that. I mean, I wasn't exactly misbehaving a lot at home, and nobody quite taught me how to "do" people and emotions (courtesy of mom who admitted it much later), sooo...
***
I remember a sports teacher in the same-ish year calling me cheeky. I must've made a comment about how lame the exercise was or something.
A year later, an iceskating instructor during a school outing called me a "calamity" because I couldn't figure out how to ice-skate well and I was afraid of those blades.
When I was ten and got a chip on my shoulder while my parents were separating (and that might've been during the time I felt they were ganging up against me, thanks therapist who diagnosed me as "spoiled brat" and gave them a Supernanny-style plan to "correct my behaviour"), I insulted the song we were about to sing in class, and got rightfully called off.
I sometimes had a very sharp tongue. Younger, I didn't realize how sharp it was. Older, I entirely knew, and I sometimes used it to cut when things felt intolerably stupid.
As an adult... I'm holding it back, because the damn thing has power, and I'd better not misuse it. I mean I even held it back against an asshole on Reddit when I could've used his breakup against him.
***
I was always very aware of danger as a kid, more than most. A literal heightened sense of danger from the youngest age. This must've saved me from a LOT of potential deadly accidents, though back in the islands with my heart cousins I was standing near a fire where the youngest of the boys, and also the dumbest, was playing around with an aerosol, and I did almost drink bleach by accident at 7 or so on a thirsty night (spat it out immediately, thank God I didn't swallow, but this shit tastes BAD).
But otherwise, I never truly got myself in trouble. I don't know if it was my mom's paranoia about me ending up being abducted, raped and killed by a hypothetical "vilain monsieur" ("evil man") that would be waiting for me at every corner of the street, or if it was in my nature to immediately pick up what could go wrong.
I had never been strangled at school and yet it took me until I was thirteen to wear a scarf, and I still do NOT tie it with a proper knot at almost 27. I was always afraid that some idiot would playfully tug on it and strangle me. I always looked at sharp objects with a bit of uneasiness, I was paranoid about short-circuits and a fire breaking out at night and killing me and burning all my toys and my home, when I would be left alone at home and my parents took a little too long to come back, I immediately started worrying that they'd got into an accident and died and what the hell is going to become of me...
...and the fire alarm was so loud and terrifying that I cried more than once hearing it. The last time as late as... middle school. Obviously, got teased for it. Now I'm fine with it, but for a long time, it was difficult.
I just always wondered how other kids just messed around thoughtlessly. Again, unsure if it's nature or nurture, but everything, and especially as I got older, always felt like it was so potentially consequential or heavy that I would just freeze up and not want to do something that could bite me in the ass later.
That's apparently not a normal thing.
God do I wish I was... lighter-minded. I was always called too serious when I was young. And sometimes when older family members made a joke that didn't land right, I'd just clap back at them and be mad at them, and then I'd be accused of "attacking" them, and that I "didn't get irony", or "could not stand teasing".
Well duh, am I going to pretend I like it when you're obviously mocking my ass? Or making fun of me for being young? Or a girl?
I'm still iffy about humour at other people's expense. I swear if I hear ANYONE making a joke in my dance group that is on another girl's behalf and it does NOT sound like the usual playful teasing... I'm baring my teeth with a few cold words.
***
Anyway. I like how anytime I get started on writing about why I like this or that, or think this or that, I do a bit of a deep dive on Hi'iaka lore.It may sound like a total hassle but I love it. And I love it when people do this.
The best way to learn about a person is to know the context.
And oh good Lord do I love the how, the why, and the process to the result we got here!
EDIT 21/10/2026: my bad, CE1 is second grade, not seventh grade.
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