Warrior
This idea of a warrior gene is one that Lily came up with after I had told her this, her story, a few times. First, a bit about a family trait.
My cousins Freddie, Leo, Danny, Mary Louise, and I, have this thing when we are in a room. We have difficulty sitting with our backs to the door. When we are together, as some people like Lily have noticed, we compete for the seat that faces the door. I've had this serve me well a number of times, but that's another story.
I have never noticed if my cousin Lupe doesn't like her back to the door, but I’d guess that she doesn’t. Lupe is a lovely person. My uncle and aunt, her parents, had a mom and pop grocery store in a marginal neighborhood. One day Lupe heard some loud sounds out in the front and found a guy with a knife robbing her mother. My cousin vaulted the waist high counter, grabs the guy's arm with both hands and snaps the arm as you would snap a stick. I never heard much of the story after that point. I like to think she beat the hell out of him, too.
Here is the story about Lily.
For years we had a couple of bunnies. One beautiful day, I was looking through the window at Sarah and 4 year old Lily doing some gardening in the backyard and they had allowed Benjamin Bunny to run wild and loose. It was an idyllic storybook scene, the two of them in the vegetable patch and the bunny frolicking. I was so happy. A very happy moment.
But then I saw a feral cat, stalking the bunny. Should I open the window and yell a warning to prevent the tragedy that was obviously going to happen. On the other hand, whatever happened would be a good life lesson, maybe an ugly way for Lily to learn a little bit how life works.
At that moment Lily, who was only four years old, sees the cat.
Most children would scream. Most children would run to her mother for help.
Lily grabbed a trowel, with the point down, and she ran to kill the cat.
The bunny lived on to old age, the cat escaped death,
and I saw the warrior gene in full blossom.