(Or, in this case, girl.)
You know how you spend the first year of baby’s life waiting for them to speak?
With bated breath you await the first “mama,” the first “dada.”
Then comes wanting to see them make connections, and begin to use newly learned words like “up” and “down,” “cat” and “dog.” And “shoe.” (My first word. Quite appropos, considering my, um, affection for them.)
The next step, evidently, is the day that baby uses her words and understanding of concepts you’ve taught her — and embarrasses the You-Know-What out of you.
And since she’s two, this surely is just the tip of the iceberg.
While driving out to the lakeside cottage recently for a weekend getaway with friends, we stopped midway for a dinner break and to give Maeve time out of her carseat.
During dinner, we were seated in a booth and rather than continue to keep her cooped up by placing her in a highchair (which is getting small for her anyway), we sat her in the booth with us. She was very interested in the man seated behind us, and it seemed to be a bit of a flirt session for her. She would smile — and since I didn’t want to encourage the looking behind at someone, I wasn’t turning to see his reaction — I imagine he must have smiled back at her because she would giggle, get shy and turn back to her food.
We explained the need for her to leave the man alone, turn around and focus on her own dinner.
As we were winding down and waiting for our check, she regained her interest in the diner behind us. (I should properly set the stage here and explain that for a Friday night, the restaurant was very quiet.)
Quiet, that is, until Maeve had a declaration to make. And declare she did:
“Mah-meeee,” she cooed, “the man makin’ mess!”
Embarassed by her need to comment on our booth-neighbor’s eating habits, I stiffened in my seat and decided to ignore her comment in the hopes she would find interest in something else. Yes, I would pretend I didn’t hear her.
Bad idea. After all, what do toddlers do when they don’t get a verbal affirmation of their comment to you?
They repeat it.
I tried to distract her with the remaining peas and carrots on her plate — ha! — but she had something to say and wanted to be sure I heard her.
Well, I wasn’t the only one.
Finally, the man spoke up. He asked Maeve if he had indeed made a mess when eating his dinner.
“Oooh. Big one!” she declared.
And then I swear I saw her bat her eyelashes and pick up with the flirting.
Yes, flirting with the man who evidently makes a mess — mind you, by a toddler’s standards, no less! — when he eats.
Just a few days later, I began prepping Maeve for her opthalmologist check-up. Although she’s been a patient of this doctor since she was just a few weeks old, she’s now of the age that she would better understand — and likely not want any part of — the flashlight and drops-in-the-eye routine.
I explained that the doctor — Dr. Rousta — would be looking at her eyes. That she takes care of Maeve’s big, brown eyes and since we use our eyes to see pretty flowers and our kitty cats, we would need to let the doctor take care of them.
She seemed to take it all in, even repeating the doctor’s name — “Doktah Rooooooostah look at Maeve eyes!”
Yeah, I thought to myself, I’ve got this one all under control.
As we were escorted to the exam room on appointment day, I wanted to remind Maeve what would be happening.
“Now Maeve, what does Dr. Rousta do?” I asked.
She beamed. And declared, just as I saw the good doctor approaching in the hallway, “Cock-a-doodle-doooooo!!!”
I smiled sheepishly and she continued the conversation with herself.
“Doktah Chicken? Bawk! bawk! bawk!”
NaBloPoMo Stats: 3 down, 27 to go.