I think Emma is being a little bit passive aggressive. Yes, I realize she is just a baby. And, yes, I am aware that she only knows four words. Well, four words in English anyway. (I am not qualified to comment on how many words she knows in Urdu or Mandarin Chinese.) That doesn’t mean she can’t communicate. Case in point: last week I had my first ever conversation with her; the transcript is below.
Mother confession: my children are not bathed on a daily basis. Not even close. Don’t ask how often I bathe them. Because I will lie. Honestly, I have never understood parents who say that they give their children a bath each night as part of a “winding down before bed” routine. Really? So, do your children find screaming at the top of their lungs, “I WILL NOT TAKE A BATH!” relaxing? Mmm. Interesting. Then our children must be different.
My husband, Dan, and I fear different things. I worry about global warming and whether each of our children is getting enough attention. Dan worries about the apocalypse and extraterrestrial invasion. (I read him the last line and he said, “Those aren’t things I fear, they’re things I’m preparing for.”) I worry that our children might be teased or bullied by other kids. Dan worries that our kids won’t be multilingual, karate black belts, who can program in Java with their left hand while playing the piano with their right hand. Anyway, between the two of us, we have most of our bases covered.
When Jacob turned three (about a year ago), I started to realize just how little I know. I don’t mean how little I know about parenting. I mean how little I know about anything. Like any self-respecting three-year old, Jacob started asking questions. Incessantly.
“Mommy, how do they make fish food?”
“Do worms have teeth?”
“Does the lady that gets shot out of the cannon feel scared?”
“Why did my goldfish jump out of his bowl?”
“Why don’t some people think pink is a lovely color?”
A few days ago, after explaining to Jacob that we sometimes have to pull the car over when ambulances, fire trucks and police cars are behind us, he asked breathlessly: “Does the frozen lemonade truck get to go first too??”