Dearest Danjo,
You've been doing this thing. Where you close your eyes. While you do things.
Not things that are ordinarily done with your eyes closed, like sleeping or sneezing. But, things that most people do with their eyes wide open.
Things like walking. Or spinning. Jumping. Eating.
When I talk about you behind your back (as parents are wont to do), with some one who hasn't witnessed your unique presence, I often conclude, that words don't do you justice. That you're the type of person who defies explanation. "You just have to meet her," I say. As if the person behind me in the grocery check-out lane would set aside time to meet my toddler.
I don't know why they wouldn't want to experience ALL of this:
("Helping" install our new pantry cabinets.)
(Partially clothed, as usual. Reading: "BALL BALL BALL BALL BALL!"
(Sweet and lovely and loving. As your schedule and objectives allow.)
(Fearless and resilient. Not even a dog bite can keep you down.)
(The redeeming Snugglebunny in you.)
(Lover of hummus. And other sacred dips.)
(Dedicated. To the task at hand. Whatever it may be, moment to fleeting moment.)
(There's a cape-wearing, eye-closing adventure around every corner.)
(Conquering the physical world.)
Your development this month feels exponential. Mostly, because your language acquisition is picking up. Or, I'm just coming to terms with the fact that you are not a baby anymore. It feels so all-of-a-sudden.
It's so hard not to compare you to your sister, who at your age was not only correcting other people's grammar, but also who was precociously serious, wise beyond her years and seemed like a grown-up person.
When I asked Bel to stop, she did. And then we had an in-depth discussion about the ramifications of sticking one's finger in an electric outlet, including, but not limited to an exploration of basic electrical concepts. Whereupon, she'd return to her lab to build a rudimentary (her words, not mine) circuit board to control her animatronic stuffed animals.
But, Danjo, you're a baby. You're my baby. You're energetic and relish being silly. And disobedient. You're a scientist like your sister. It's just that: your hypotheses are of a different nature altogether. You test. FOR. SURE. You test gravity and physical limits. The invisible line between the sidewalk and the street. Your parents' agility and lung capacity, as we shout and chase after you. And get our lazy butts off the couch to actually MAKE you stop hitting your sister.
You're my mini-motivational speaker: don't talk about it Mommy, be about it.
I've been betting against time and giving you the benefit of the doubt, but the end of infantilizing you is near. Though I can only understand every tenth word you say, you understand nearly all the words we say. We are entering your terrible twos, the era of timeouts and tantrums and desperate attempts to teach you to conform to the laws of the land.
(The first time I've ever seen you respond to the word "no"... when your Ninong Unkinan told you to stop throwing oranges.)
"What's the point?" I asked Lolopop. I'm pretty sure you think the word "no" is a vote of confidence, words of encouragement or maybe a dare. You have little to no external motivation. You are no people pleaser. You are ruled by your own desires.
"To make sure she doesn't kill herself," was your Lolopop's sage advice.
My parental toolbox is currently packed with guilt, manipulation, shame/embarrassment, bribery and, also, positive reinforcement. I think I need to head back to the hardware store for you.
The answer may be found in some sort of restraint system. Aisle twelve, I think.
I love the puzzle pieces imagery...you are so right! Maybe you and Bel are tessellations...slightly skewed iterations of the same shape...
Posted by: amy | 13 April 2012 at 09:31 AM
@amy you are so right! Both about the "karma kid" and the "yang kid." When you wrote that, it resonated such that I teared up a little. (But, who are we kidding? Doesn't take much!) Even though some days I feel like she's another creature from another planet, I feel like I've met my soul mate in Danjo; that we're puzzles pieces. Maybe because she takes so much after Beadle or Kevin? Bel completes my puzzle too; we're just the SAME piece, so we don't fit together too well! We need a couple of remediating pieces between us :)
Posted by: Mommy (not yours, but theirs) | 12 April 2012 at 08:42 AM
I LOVE that you have a child who is so DIFFERENT from you! I think it's so great for us as parents to have to wrap our minds and hearts around a being who seems to be put on the earth with us to be our doppelganger, our reminder that what and who we are is not only not necessarily the BEST way to be (and we can be pretty egocentric that way, right?) but sometimes it's not even CLOSE to being the most interesting!
GGG has always chuckled at our "karma kids", the ones who are SOOOO much like us, in such exasperating ways, that she just thinks it's highly amusing when we whine about it(think Sami)...but Yelly is not your karma kid--she is your Yang kid...she fits all your Yin curves and spaces with her complementary curves and spaces.
Posted by: amy | 11 April 2012 at 12:36 PM