My sweet Henry is about one month shy of his second birthday. These days it seems he is growing and changing quicker than I can catch my breath. He is learning new words and making connections and this whole big world that we live in is brand new in his little eyes. He marvels at bumblebees disappearing into foxglove blossoms and he will toss stone after stone into a rippling puddle just to watch splash after splash.
And, as toddlers do, he is bursting to share his newfound knowledge with whomever he can.
“Mama. Mama! Mama! Mama! MAMA! MAAAA-MAAAA!”
“Yes, what is it, Sweetie?”
“Yes, it is raining, Sweetie.”
Unfortunately, if one does not show the proper amount of enthusiasm towards the event that has peaked his interest, he will throw his entire being into ensuring that one fully understands the remarkableness of said event, his volume and urgency increasing with every declaration.
“Mama! MAMA, RAIN! MAAA-MAAA RAIN!! RAAAAAIIINNNNNN!!”
“YES! RAIN!! It IS raining, Sweetie! You are SO smart to notice it is RAINING! RAIN! I see the RAIN!!”
Occasionally, his little toddler self will encounter something so amazing, he will insist on sharing his discovery with every person in the vicinity.
“Mama, bug. Mama! Bug! MAAA-MAAA! BUUUUUUUUG!”
“Yes, Darling, that is a little bug! A BUG! How clever you were to see it! A bug, that’s right!” (I've got this little song and dance down pat by now.)
“Dada, bug. Dada! Bug! DAAA-DAAA! BUUUUUUUUG! ”
For whatever reason, my husband does not always hear this first round of exclamations. Sometimes I even have to give him a little nudge for fear my son will continue to yell about insects all day long.
“Hmm? Oh, yes, Son, a bug.”
“DADA, BUG! DAAAA-DAAAA! BUUUUUUUUG!”
And so it goes.
I sometimes imagine the scenario that would play out if I utilized a similar communication style in my everyday life. Say, when I discovered those adorable leopard print ballet flats at Target.
Me: “Excuse me. Excuse Me! EXCUSE ME!! EXCUUUUUUUSE MEEEEEE!”
Random Target Shopper: “Um, yes?”
Random Target Shopper: “Uh…yeah…shoes.”
Me: “EXCUSE ME!! SHOES! SHOES! SHOOOOOES!! SHOOOOOOOOES!!!”
Thank goodness we all grow out of that phase, right? It would be pretty crazy if grown adults needed the same sort of attention and affirmation as egocentric toddlers.
I mean, sure I’m writing this blog all about me and my cute kids and all of our activities. But it’s not like I hit “post” and then sit around and wait for “likes” or get downright giddy if I receive a comment.