I fear my child has entered a realm of demanding that has me both baffled and waving a white flag. She has a firm grasp of words like “frustrated”, “sad”, “tired” and “hungry” and has been known to use phrases like “It’s very hard to do”, “I’m so hungry”, and “I need help” but has tossed these handy phrases to the side in favor screaming while her father and I look at each other in horror asking each other “What does she want?” “I don’t know she was just playing with her blocks two seconds ago and now she’s on the floor writhing in pain... you tell me?” We lean over her kicking and screaming mass and yell to her “USE YOOUUR WORRRDSS SWEETIE!” We might as well be yelling “DOOO YOOOOU SPEEEAK ENNNGLISH? You know… SPEAK-OH ENGLISH-OH!”
Dan and I reassure each other with the idea that she’s been sick lately and we are all crabby when we are sick but I still fear the worst. Could it be that my perfect dear sweet well adjusted baby girl and bestest play buddy is having a hormone surge and is slipping into the… I’m not even going to say it… I’ll just call it “the not so mellow time in her toddler-hood”? Or perhaps she's decided on a new nationality without telling us. She sits down to the same foods she used to like for dinner only to spit it back out with a hearty “I won’t like this!” and then the unintelligible wailing starts followed by me shouting “What?... What DO you WANT TO EAT? Do you want a piece of CHEESE? GRAPES? … PRIME RIB? ... KUNG POW CHICKEN?.. TOMALIS?... WHAT dooo yooou waaaant!?!” If she would just tell me that she has decided to be Lithuanian I will happily make pierogi, pączki, or blini for her and then I can buy the Lietuvių Kalba to English dictionary and dispense with the yelling.
I really am trying to cut her and me some slack as I think her brain is having a growth spurt. Yesterday I heard her practicing the correct pronunciation of “s – sss – s – s – s – pooon” and I see her carefully lining things up and the announcing “seven raisins, that’s more!” (The basics of math happening there). I just can’t imagine how traumatic it would be to arrive on a new planet and learn everything from how to control your body and move through space to the importance of depositing your poo in the potty within the first three years and not be absolutely off your rocker with stress. However my tolerance for a tiny screaming alien attached to my tit is running low and I have found myself saying to her “Just STOP! NOO MOOOORE CRYING! You know CRYING-OH -- STOP-OH the CRYING-OH!” Apparently my not so mellow toddler doesn’t speak ArrogantAmerican-Oh.
Well, we always wanted her to learn a second language and as soon as we have a good look at her passport we’ll tell you what it is.