Ever have those moments (or days) when you swear your child doesn’t hear a word you say? When it seems like your little ones are intentionally ignoring you? When you feel like you have to repeat yourself ten times before your darling acknowledges you’ve spoken, and then half the time you get a response of “I don’t want to”?
Hello. Hello?
Such is life with a toddler, I suppose. And of course, I know she hears me. She knows the things I’ve taught her. She can say her ABCs and sings all sort of songs I’ve sung to her. She can sort of count to 20 (the 14, 15, 16, 17 gets a little muddled) and she knows the sounds that all of her letters make. She can recite all or most of many of the books we have read over and over (one of my favorites is when she “reads” Brown Bear, Brown Bear and instead of saying “Teacher, Teacher, what do you see?” she says “T-shirt, T-shirt…” Perhaps I need to enunciate a little more). She typically uses her manners nicely. I hear her using phrases we have said to her many times, like “Keep trying” and “That’s not a toy,” or even “No Ma’am!” (said firmly to her sister). She recently started saying “Damn it!” after I said that in front of her once. Of course, much to my chagrin, she spent several moments in front of my in-laws last week saying over and over, “Damn-it-Damn-it-Damn-it!” while walking around their room frowning and pointing her finger emphatically. Lovely.
The point is. The kid hears what I say, even when she is studiously ignoring it.
Yesterday she showed me something different about her capacity to hear me. She showed me that she really listens and internalizes the positive things that I say to her. Of course I always knew that she does, and this isn’t really a grand epiphany. Obviously a toddler/preschooler internalizes what she hears and sees from her parents all the time. But yesterday I had a moment when I saw just how important it is to tell my girls I love them a hundred times a day. To tell them how beautiful and smart and good and kind and strong they are. I tell them these things constantly, and now I have been reinforced. Yesterday Miss repeatedly stated, “My Mommy wubs me” and gave me a hug. Now, I’ve already posted here about the little love fest we’ve been having around here lately. As amazing and swoon-worthy as it is to hear my two-year-old repeatedly saying “I wub you Momma” and many other variations on that statement, it was much more rewarding to hear her saying in such a heartfelt way in her tiny little voice, “My Mommy, she wubs me.” And just as good, when we were singing a song about her eyes she said, “I have pwetty eyes.” Yes. Cha-ching.
Hearing this from my older girl just thrills me. ‘Cause I know there will be days when the “I love you Moms” won’t be so forthcoming, but as long as my girls know how much their Mommy “wubs” them, we’ll be okay. They might curse me someday for any number of imagined tortures. But deep down they’ll know that “You-are-not-going-out-of-the-house-wearing-that-studded-leather-biker-jacket-I-don’t-care-if-you-bought-it-with-your-own-money” (yep, my Mom said something like that to me 20-ish years ago) comes from love and the curfews and sleepovers not permitted because the other kids’ parents are sketchy
