It is only lately that Sam and I have been able to engage in little mini-conversations, which just blows my mind. I just never thought it would ever happen, but it has. I was on the phone the other day with my friend Hilary (that’s with one “L”) in Norfolk when she heard him talking away in full sentences in the background. Most likely he was rambling on about needing to go fight a fire, wanting to watch TV, or asking for some orange juice in his favorite Cars sippy cup.
“Wow,” she exclaimed, “the last time I saw him, all he said was ‘digga, digga, digga.'” And it’s true, the transformation was fast. “Digga, digga, digga” used to be his catch-all phrase for everything, an expression to fit all occasions. Usually, though, it meant, “Gimme that!” often referring to something in your hands, like food. Before “digga,digga, digga,” his big phrase was “maning” (pronounced mah-ning). And with that “word,” too, he used to say it three times in a row– maning, maning, maning. We finally figured out it meant that he wanted something to drink. I guess he was pretty thirsty there for a while until we clued in.
Alas, both “maning” and “diga, diga, diga” are mantras of the past. I must admit I was sad to see them go but thrilled to be able to communicate with him better. Why is it that just about everything in motherhood is so bittersweet? Now, whenever I throw either word into the conversation to see his reaction, he looks at me like, “What the heck are you saying, crazy lady? Do you need a speech therapist?” I guess that is a sneak peek into life with a teenager will be like down the road.
Well, the other day I was playing trains with him, trying to muster – or at least feign – some genuine interest. Out of nowhere, he blurts, “When is the cleaning lady going to come?” That was by far the most complex sentence he has ever uttered. Let’s face it, you know your house is seriously trashed when a two-year-old is asking for the cleaning lady. “Uh, tomorrow,” I replied, trying not to burst out laughing right in front of him. He was right, of course. The house was crying out for a thorough cleaning, something that has never been my forte.
Then he announced, “Sam needs to pick up his toys!” And lo and behold, he started to clean up his toys with vigor, something he never does when it is just Mommy Dearest around. Yes, that is learned behavior. Since infancy he has watched me run around the house like a maniac before the cleaning lady arrives, clearing clutter so she can get to the surfaces and actually clean. Needless to say, I wasn’t about to stop him. Heck, I’m willing to take any motivator I can get. Hmmmn… There’s another good reason to rationalize having her come more often. It would be great for his language skills as well as an invaluable tool to teach him how to clean up! Oh, I suppose there is an added benefit for me, too – a cleaner house. Well, there’s nothing wrong with that, right?
LibbY
LibbY