You know that little kid who walks through a store and says, “Oooh! Oooh! Mama, can we buy this? Oooh! Oooh! Mama, can I have this? Oooh! Oooh! Mama, I neeeeeeeed this!”?
That kid was never mine. Well, maybe ONE of those kids was mine, but not the other.
While I was never quite sure if Brooke understood the concept of shopping, even if she did, she didn’t have the language to ask for anything. And so, for many years, I had a child who simply didn’t ask.
Now, just shy of seven, my girl is getting the hang of it. The words are exploding. The sentences are flowing. The syntax is coming together. And she knows damn well that her Mama will turn into a big, steaming ball of spineless mush when she asks for something.
All those years of trying to guess what she wanted – of trying to sort through the clues and gauge reactions and hope that maybe, just maybe, she’d actually like something – all add up to a big pile of ’Oh, sure baby, you want the pony? Of course, let’s go get you fitted for a saddle.”
Judge me if you will. Tell me I should be stronger. Go ahead. I dare you.
You do it.
You say no.
Let’s practice, shall we?
Yeah, I thought so. The hay is in aisle three.