Take Some Time

I have a very observant daughter. Sometimes, she's sorta like Navi in The Legend of Zelda, Ocarina of Time.* Even if the only word she can say is "Hey!", her attention to a certain, nearby objective is often so relentless that it begs to be addressed before continuing onward. For example, one time while she was riding in the stroller and Kay was in the backpack, a grey mitten fell off Kay and landed in the street as we crossed. Rae began to cry and point but didn't yet have the words to explain what she had seen. Because the color of the mitten had darkened from the water it absorbed, I couldn't even make it out against the asphalt. Still, Rae persisted. It wasn't until I conceding to walking back across the street that I finally recovered what had been lost, and it was all thanks to Rae.

A similar event happened not too long ago. I had picked Rae up from day care and we were taking a new route home, but the holiday window dressings on this route were a sizable distraction for Rae and we were making very slow progress. As we walked by the park, my thoughts began to drift to dinner and what I would be preparing. It was getting late.  To compensate for lost time, I made the executive decision to pick up Rae and carry her the rest of the way home. Rae began to fuss, which I attributed to her not wanting to be carried, but I had already made my decision. We were going home now.

Her fussiness only grew. We were a block from home at this point, then half a block. She only got louder. She was saying something, but I wasn't sure if it was words or just noise. I set her down on her feet and looked her in the eyes. 

"Rae, Daddy wants to help you but you aren't using your words, sweetie. I need you to stop crying and really try to tell Daddy what you want."

In rather cinematic fashion, a single tear fell from her eye. She shook her head, as if to say "I don't have the words" or perhaps "I've been telling you this whole time, you just don't understand me." The only actually word she said was, "Please."

I had no idea what she wanted, but I understood one thing. Whatever it was, it was of dear importance to her. I picked her up and we began to walk back.

One block. I set her down. 

"Is it here?"

Rae pointed back farther. I picked her up and we walked another black. I set her down again.

"Is it here?"

Rae shook her head and pointed back farther.

"Can you show Daddy?"

She began walking back on her own now. I was following her. Rae carefully examined each building. It was very near. Yes, this is it. Rae pointed.

"Star." She declared.

Indeed. It was a start mounted in some custom framing shop. Rae had only wanted to stop to admire the Christmas star.

We took a picture to show Mama.

That's some two-year-old. 

 

 

*Navi is a fairy side kick that is animated as a pink or white glow in the video game. She isn't always very articulate but helps you out with the most important stuff, especially when you are lost. (I have to explain these things for my mom.)