As a first-time mom of a normal child, time does not operate the way it once did. I’m pretty sure I have mentioned this before. At this stage of the game, all the things that people tell you will happen actually do happen, but for some reason it is still a novelty because it is happening to you and your child, which has never happened before, technically. Confusing? Exactly.
For example, at some brilliant stage of toddlerhood, children begin repeating everything they hear. This is the part where your kid repeats the least appropriate thing you’ve ever said within earshot of her. And by “within earshot” I mean within a quarter mile radius. For me, I was able to weather the storm when it came to profanity. During the beginning of her “Black Beauty” phase, I said “sh#t” under my breath and realized it too late to stop it from coming out. Immediately I sprang to recover, so by the time she said, “What did you say, Mommy?” I was able to cover with, “Bit. I said bit. Remember, the thing they put in the horse’s mouth, in the first part of the movie? And he didn’t like it? That was called a ‘bit,’ remember?”
Mike was not so fortunate. He had a habit of cussing when things went wrong and he had no idea she was able to hear him. So one day at Grandma’s house, she tried to tug a string off her dolly highchair that was terribly tangled. As she was unable to free it, she said (to herself), “Fock, fock, fock.” No, that is not a typo. Grandma decided to investigate, and sure enough, Katy was using the words in the same sentiment that she had heard her daddy use them, but she pronounced them with a slightly different vowel sound. When pressed on the matter, Katy simply replied that she heard Daddy say that.
Grandma told me about this later that day on the phone, when Katy wasn’t around to hear it. So I wasn’t surprised later that evening that the situation was still on Katy’s mind. As she was sitting on her froggy potty, out of the blue she said to me, “My daddy says ‘f*&#, f*&#, f*&#’ all the time.” I proceeded to try explaining to her that this is not a word we should ever say, and that girls, especially little girls who want to be like princesses, definitely shouldn’t say it. She seemed to buy my explanation because I had done a pretty good job of not using the f word, and I am a girl. But it was not the last time we discussed this.
When kids start repeating what you say, somehow it seems they know exactly which things are the worst things they could possibly repeat, and then say those things to the exclusion of anything nice that they’ve heard you say. One day, Mike and Katy Rose were reading “Pat the Bunny.” Mike pointed out that a character in the book, Judy, looked like she had a big butt on one of the pages. (I’m just going to chalk that up to being a boy, like maybe they just can’t help it.) I butted into the conversation and asserted that it was NOT nice to talk about other people’s butts. The last thing I need is for Katy to tell me I have a big butt, or worse, someone else has one. I once had a friend’s daughter giggle and say, “Mommy, Wendy’s fat.” Yeah, let’s not encourage this.
Another amazing thing about this age is when kids start to recognize that they are growing. We have a little hand and foot print framed on Katy’s wall from when she was 6 weeks old. I’ve taken it down and tried to show her how we can use those to see how big her hands and feet have grown. I soon learned that hands and feet are not the only things that grow. One day while she was undressed, Katy came to me and proclaimed that her “bras” got bigger. Oh boy. Two nights ago, Katy informed me that her butt got bigger, followed by a show of one foot and the claim that it got bigger, too. (Phew.)
Sometimes, though, this stage turns out to be purely amazing. Suddenly, my two year old switched into a three year old, seemingly overnight. Now and then I can almost see the wheels turning in her brain. At this age, it is precious to witness Katy trying to make new logical connections based on what she already knows. Last night I asked her if she wanted to sit on the big couch with me, or on the loveseat. She knew them both as couches, so the loveseat term was new to her. She tried repeating the word to me, so I said it again—the smaller couch is called a loveseat. She thought about it for about 3 seconds and then said, “So… we hug it??”
That’s right, love = hug. <3
No comments:
Post a Comment