Kieran is just a month shy of 2.5. I remember this stage with Liam, and what I remember about it how just as I was mourning the loss of my wee baby, I discovered the joy and fun of raising a little boy. From then on, as each of my boys passes on to a new stage of childhood, I find myself saying, “This is the best stage yet. It’s just so sweet and fun.” I say that every time, and every time I’m sure I’ve found The Most Fun Stage of Childhood. And every time I am proven wrong. So I enjoy each stage as it happens, but I’m also wondering what fun things are just around the corner. (I have been told by more experienced parents that this fun-funner-funnest ever deal changes as children approach adolescence; I am quite happy to live on in ignorant bliss until then.)
I know we’re not meant to compare our children as they pass through all their developmental stages, and Kieran and Liam are such different children that any comparing I could do would be much more of an exercise in contrasting than finding similarities anyway. That said, though, there is one thing that jumps out and begs to be noticed about both boys. That thing is their expressive language skills. Both of them are fascinated by words and love to add tools to their vocabulary toolbox.
This is a good thing because we rarely need to wonder what it is that each boy wants and needs. This is also a bad thing because we rarely need to wonder….yeah, you got it. The air gets a bit verbose around The Menagerie House sometimes. Personally I find this helpful because with two language fiends running around underfoot all day, I rarely lack for blogging fodder. (I do lack for blogging time, but that goes with the territory of early parenthood/modern life/whatever, I think.)
Today was a bit of a milestone for Kieran in the self-awareness department. Over a session of block building, he was talking to me about things that had happened to him. I was idly listening, surprised at the detail with which he remembered these fun-but-everyday events. There was the bank teller who gave him a lollipop, the produce clerk at the grocery store who had given him a banana, the policeman who let him pet his police dog, and the dump truck that had taken him away from his Mommy and made him cry.
As the last story came out of his mouth, I found myself thinking, “What, what, what? WHAT? When did this happen? Where was I?” Being a properly anxious 21st-Century parent I was sure he’d been kidnapped. A second later I realized this couldn’t be true because, well, I’d have noticed if he went missing. Then I wondered if some of the workers who had been on the street this week had offered to give him a tour of a dump truck. I could easily imagine him having been out on a trike ride with Liam and Kevin, and then after accepting such an offer bursting out in tears if the worker had tried to pick him up to show him the cab of the truck. That was surely a reassuring explanation for such a story, but clearly I needed more information. I got ready to ask some hard questions.
Me : “That must have been scary! Did the man pick you up?”
Kiri: “No. Man?? Hhhhmmm? No man.”
Me: “Oh, I meant the truck’s driver, sweetie. Did he pick you up to show you inside the truck?”
Kiri (obviously frightened by the memory): “No! No driver! Truck picked I up! With his hands!”
Me: “Oh, my! Well, did Daddy help you down?”
Kiri: “Oh, no. Daddy not there. Dump truck took me away from MOMMY!”
Me (wondering how he could have gotten into a dump truck in the 0.5 seconds I look away from him when he’s near a street): “Well, um, um, I found you again, right?”
Kieran (with obvious relief): “Well, yes. And me hugged you. Then we had noopie! And then we had muffins for bweakfast!”
Suddenly things became clear in an instant. He had had a nightmare about a toy dump truck coming to life and stealing him away from Kevin and me. And he is too young to understand what dreams are, so as far as he is concerned, the story is true, and the events unfolded as he described. It was an amazing moment of insight into the mind of a small child. I have often wondered what goes on in those sweet little heads, and for a moment I was allowed to find out.
I have not been able to explain dreams to him. I think he’s too young, and discussing the truck memory clearly upsets him. Someday he will understand what dreams and nightmares are, and when he wakes up crying in the middle of the night. we will be able to make things right for him by reminding him of this story. And see? There’s another developmental stage to look forward to.
