Nineteen Months
It has surprised me that this month you suddenly seem to have come into a full understanding of the world. You're like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. When you stuck your father's hat into the dog's bowl while I was making dinner a few weeks ago, you looked up at me petulant and afraid. "Are you very, VERY mad?" the look you gave me said and you waited, shifting guiltily on your feet. I have sinned, mama. Hurry up and forgive me so I can go find something else to cause trouble with.
Not only have you come into the knowledge of good and evil, you've also managed to perfect the tone of my voice. This is not as cool as it sounds because your father and I have yet to edit our expletives around you. I have a suspicion that even if no one else in public can understand the gibberish you speak, they'll certainly know by the tone of your voice that you're swearing. Seriously, what ELSE could you be saying with such conviction? It is, however, also enormously cute when you do something catastrophic, like dump an entire box of cheerios on the kitchen floor. Then you give a gasp, put your hands on your hips and stare down at the mess, shaking your head. "Oh, OMEN!" You say, in a tone of immense disappointment.
You have also begun to do this other really cool thing... FOLLOW DIRECTIONS. It's unbelievable, like having a little robot in the house. I can say "Go to the kitchen and give this to your father," or even "please go put this away in your bedroom." And you toddle away and perform the request like a dog jumping through hoops. You seem immensely satisfied that you can follow these directions and I wonder how long it will be before you catch onto the fact that this is not a REQUIREMENT for life. The ability to follow directions. Your father and I have been getting along quite nicely without it for years.
I have been surprised that despite our overuse of the word "no," you haven't caught onto the fact that you can say it back. Neither, however, have you been able to figure out how to use "yes." When I ask you if you want something, like another drink or a red corvette, you pause and then say "All right" as if I had just suggested you give up your favorite toy and you're agreeing just to humor me. And while you say thank you to EVERYONE, you have yet to use "You're welcome" correctly. You seem to understand it comes after thank you, but you're quite sure you're responsible for saying both.
You have decided that Daddy is so cool that everyone's name should rhyme with Daddy and so you call me "Maudy." And normally that would make me pissy. Because you see I carried you around along with an extra forty pounds for nine months and then spent three hours pushing you out of me. Then I breastfed you for a year. You can at least get my name right. But you say it with such affection, when you throw your arms around my neck and press your check into mine. "Oh, maudy, maudy, maudy..." You repeat, cooing and murmuring your contentment. Okay, kid. Call me anything you want.
Posted by Kaz at August 24, 2007 3:58 PM