I’m 2 and ½ years. That’s a pretty big deal. That’s two years of lots of watching, lots of brain development, lots of learning. I have my own ideas about how the days should go. I spend a lot of time planning my day and what I think Momma and Lyla, even Daddy, should do. Most of the time I’m pretty good at making sure things go according to plan. I can do a lot myself, even if people think I can’t. I can sweep, and then put the dirt back where it came from. I can use the spray cleaner and a rag to wipe things…and also to clean Lyla. I can kind of vacuum; we just need a smaller vacuum, that’s all. I can put clothes away…where I think they should go. I can pour my drinks, which also gives the thirsty counter a drink. I have my own camera and can take my own pictures, artistic pictures. I can do puzzles, build towers, and draw. I can sing, play the piano perfectly, and steer the cars. You name it, I’m pretty sure I can do it myself.
The big people in my life look at me like I’m a child, incapable of such strategic planning, incapable of doing things on my own. That’s why one phrase is so important: “I can do it myself!”. I have to use this phrase about 31 times each day. At least I think that is the number…I can’t really count past 19. It isn’t just about the words. You have to look them in the eye, use hand gestures and a loud voice. They still don’t get it.
Some big people really don’t get it at all. One day on a field adventure, a woman came up to us with this strange, high pitched voice, squishy lips, a wiggling finger, and what she thought were words. She looked and sounded like an idiot. I stared at her…then looked at Momma…then looked behind me at Lyla, who actually had a goofy, toothy, grin on her face. Ah ha…the woman was talking like we were babies. Leave it to Lyla to encourage her. She messes up everything!! Momma was too awkward to fix it, too busy looking for pictures to take. I had to take control. I would do it myself.
The woman asked Momma how old we were. I can answer myself!! Momma told her. The woman looked at me and squished up her nose and lips, saying, “Wow…a biggy wiggy two year old! What a big boy! Yes you are!!” She grabbed my fingers (really, I didn’t know this woman at all, and she had the nerve to touch me!). I looked at her, done with the shenanigans, and said, “It’s time to let go! Momma, it’s time to say goodbye. I’m a big boy, I can do it myself! Lyla no talking!!” Momma’s mouth opened, then shut. By looking at her eyes, I could tell she was trying not to laugh. The woman gasped and then started to talk again, but just sounds came out. So I looked her in the eyes, talked slowly and loudly, and said, “Use your words.”
Momma mumbled something and whisked us away so fast I could barely hear the woman call after us, “Well, he certainly is a spirited boy.” And then Momma mumbled loud enough I could hear her, “And you my friend, certainly are an annoying woman.” Since I really needed Momma to push us away, and couldn’t stomp off myself, I was so glad when she did! Sometimes, I still need help. Some days, Momma is my superhero.
