'Salina has always been a bit of a clown.
When she was only six weeks old, she rolled off my breast, looked up at me and giggled. It scared her witless at the time - it was her first laugh - and then she got into the swing of things, continuing that feed with the roll act and giggling.
At 8 months, while on my lap in a busload of tired and grumpy commuters one afternoon in Brisbane, she took one look at a bored audience and started to dance for them - bounce, bounce, bounce, working that bus into a smile.
At 10 months, I did a charity performance at Maleney with a friend looking after her in the audience. I have a piece called "Teaser" that begins "Hey! You!" She actually heckled me!
She learned to wink at 14 months old, and used it mercilessly to astonish adults.
She learned to say funny things in parallel to learning to talk. She used funny voices at the age of two to get a laugh. She used props to dodge Mummy-gets-stern moments (such as the blue bear utilised when I had told her not to touch something I was doing).
(The title of this post is in relation to me calling her on it one day in the car when she was just 3. She was outraged. "Mummy, I am not a 'medienne. I am a little girl!")
At 4, she discovered the comedic value of using the word "bottom" in jokes to get the audience rolling. The fact that the rest of the joke was completely unfunny did not phase her at all, and she would trot out her "why did the head go up the tree?" line over and over and over again. (Hey, even the best stand-ups have dull patches). (Oh, and the punchline? "To find his bottom". Yeah, still not that funny.)
At 5, she discovered she could flare her nostrils and roll her eyes. The added bonus of physical comedy was born.
At 6 she had her entire class in merriment with her witticisms and wisecracks. I am sure the teacher was not as appreciative of the interruptions, but she did prefer it to some of the behaviour displayed by other members of the class.
When we moved here, she was quite a sad little girl with feelings of ostracism and heartbreak at leaving old friends. The new audience thought she was just quite warped, but she eventually won them over.
Her first meeting with V was punctuated with an imitation of me. She put on my shoes, pointed dramatically and said "Do this. Do that." It should not have been funny, but when I told her to "Put those shoes away and stop it" the resemblance to her imitation cracked everyone (including my new beau) up.
I wish that I had a video camera, as she has an act called "Cowboy Doll" where she loosens her shoulders, does the walk and shoots six-guns in the air. If you "press her buttons" she changes moves.
Where is this going? Well, she forgot about my little prank yesterday and this morning woke me with "its 6.18 in my bedroom, but only 6.09 in here" and I can see her cogs ticking over, working it into a routine when she is an adult.
Oh yes, for all the visions she has of herself being a "violin-playing horse-rider" when she grows up, I have few doubts that she may find herself a few routines to entertain her mates (or the world) with.
Or maybe she will have a blog.