HUH!?

Being a young child is a tough job. Always being told what to do. Forced to go to bed in the middle of the day, just when the other kids are getting home from school and playing outside. Being told that you can no longer pee anywhere you want; now you have to sit on a cold, gaping seat that feels like it’s going to swallow you up if you’re not careful. Suddenly getting in trouble for things that used to make people laugh and take pictures, like throwing your food on the floor or picking mom’s favorite flowers.

Not to mention the myriad of stuff a young kid is expected to learn. It’s not enough that they just spent the first 3 years of life learning how to walk, talk, play patty cake, and sleep through the night. Now the demands get even higher. They have to learn how to share, and take turns, and eat cereal without dribbling the milk all down their front. And it’s no longer enough to just scream and point and wait for the nearest adult to figure out what they want. Now they are expected to “use your words” to calmly explain that some kid just took MY FAVORITE TOY!

But I'd like to submit that, while being a young child is no picnic, neither is it easy to be the mom of said kid. Especially when it comes to trying to decipher their still-developing language skills. I don't know about your kids, but it seems to take mine forever to connect the brain synapses responsible for forming logical questions. For example, Adana & I were going for a walk today :

Adana (picking a flower): What's this called?
(So far so good, you're thinking? Well, don't be fooled. Apparently, that was the one-and-only Question Synapse that had yet formed in her 3-year old brain.)
Me: It's a dandelion.
Adana: When?
Me: Huh?
Adana: When is it?
Me: Ummm . . . right now?
Adana: NO, it's a dan-de-li-on. (She slowly enunciates every syllable, convinced that her mom is a DUH-head.)
Me: Right. Thanks.
Adana: Where's Baba? (Another synapse connected! That's two!)
Me: At work.
Adana: Who?
Me: Baba.
Adana: No, AT HIS OFFICE!
Me: Oh . . . you meant "where."
Adana: What time is the red triangle?
Me: Seriously? I don't even know what that means.
Adana: Right there! (Pointing to a parking lot. Not much help there.) When is the red triangle?
Me: Hey! Look at that pretty flower. (When in doubt, distract.)
Adana: Who?
Me: You. Look at that pretty white flower.
Adana: I like kisses. Where are the kisses?
Me (bending down to peck her on the check): Here's one.
Adana: Not those kisses! Yellow kisses!

And so it goes . . . I was mentally exhausted by the time we'd walked a block. But in the end, here's what I discovered (after a conversation that rivals Job for patience):

#1 The pick-the-right-question-word synapse is still in the formulative stages. Currently, any question word beginning with "wh" can be interchanged with any other.

#2 The "red triangle" in question was actually a red octogon - as in a stop sign. See #1 above as to why "What time is the red triangle" was an adequate way to ask "What is that red octogon?"

#3 Yellow kisses are her new word for daffodils. (Thank you, Izaac.) She had to stop at. every. single. daffodil. that. we. passed. on. our. walk. And then she had to kiss them all. Not just kiss them - she would shove her face into their pretty little yellow cups and SMOOCH. She looked like she was frenching the flowers. And she ended up with a ring of yellow pollen around her mouth.

So in the end, we had a lovely walk. I learned a thing or two about understanding my 3-year old. Adana got some fresh air & exercise. And a whole lotta flowers are feeling loved (or violated) today.