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Thursday July 23rd, 2009 “My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness.”
Dalai Lama
Bath-time is typically an enjoyable activity at our house. Last night was no exception; Pip and Crazybaby were making each other laugh by holding cloths in their mouths like puppies. (It’s funny how their little games hold absolutely no appeal to my husband and I, but the girls find them absolutely hilarious.) The energy being exchanged between our daughters was positive, fun and happy. It all changed in the blink of an eye.
Crazybaby reached for a toy seal that had lay floating, unnoticed for the entire bath, but Pip decided it was suddenly irresistible and grabbed it out of Crazybaby’s hands. Instantly, Crazybaby grabbed a decent fistful of Pip’s hair and yanked. Pip screamed, Crazybaby cried, and the vibe in our mellow blue bathroom was instantly altered. I could feel the aggression emanating from both girls like lightning bolts shooting across the tub at each other.
It shouldn’t surprise me that energy between two people can change so dramatically and quickly; it’s human nature. It happens all the time. But everything is so raw with children. They don’t have language to complicate their feelings, they just let it all hang out.
Within a couple of minutes, peace was restored. Pip calmed down and we talked through the situation; I explained that Crazybaby’s actions were indeed wrong, but she had been reacting to Pip grabbing the toy. “If you’re nice to her, Pip, she’ll be nice to you.”
Isn’t that how the world should work?
Thursday July 23rd, 2009 “Change your language and you change your thoughts.”
Karl Albrecht
The other day I was reading a board book with Crazybaby, and on one page there were about ten different items illustrated. Just for fun, I started questioning her about the items, “Can you point to the Tiger? Can you point to the shovel? Where is the bucket?” And she got every single one! I was shocked. I hadn’t talked to her about tigers, had I? When had I shown her a tractor? And these were kind of artsy illustrations; not very realistic renderings at all. I asked my husband if he’d read the book with Crazy before and he had, but not many times. Impressive.
At sixteen months of age, Crazybaby is really excited about language. She’s been blathering on in her own little language for months, but now some of her words are clearly recognizable to us, and I’d say that over a dozen of her words could be understood by anyone. Maybe you’re at this stage with your toddler, or perhaps you’re going to go through it soon, but I find it fascinating. The rate at which children acquire language is astonishing, and the amount they actually understand is even more impressive.
I remember my sister saying that when my niece started talking, she often spoke about experiences she had before she was able to talk. (Did I explain that well?) What a concept! I imagine Crazybaby’s tales:
“I remember cutting that first tooth; man, my gums were on fire!”
“Being burped was humiliating.”
“I used to get so frustrated when your breasts were engorged and I couldn’t latch on properly.”
or my favourite, “I liked living inside your belly.”
Tuesday July 21st, 2009 “You can discover more about a person in an hour of play than in a year of conversation.”
Plato
It’s happening. Pip and Crazybaby are starting to play their own little games together and it’s an astonishingly exciting development.
Before we had Crazybaby, I sort of took for granted the fact that my daughters would be playmates, but there have been times during the past year when I had my doubts. Pip’s feelings toward Crazybaby have ranged from mild interest, to tolerance, to blatant resentment. She has uttered the words, “I don’t love her,” and more recently, “We should sold that Crazybaby.”
Today, however, genuine enjoyment shone on the face of our eldest daughter as she played some form of chasing game with her toddling sister. When Pip yelled, “WE’RE JUST PLAYING A GAME, MAMA!!!” from the living room when I called the family to dinner, I nearly jumped for joy. I’m not sure excactly what the game entailed, but it was all their own. Crazybaby would walk Frankenstyle past the kitchen, then I’d hear two voices scream excitedly before erupting in fits of giggles.
My husband was the ‘parent-in-charge’ of the girls while I was making dinner, and at one point I heard him try to discipline them with a firm, “There’ll be no screaming in the house young ladies,” but we were both so thrilled at our daughters’ mutual delight, that there was no rule enforcement whatsoever.
Later, while eating dinner outside, out of the blue Pip announced, “I’m going to tickle some toes.” She got up, walked over to Crazybaby’s high-chair, and tickled the naked little piggies that wiggled before her. Crazybaby was over the moon. (And so was her Mama.)
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