Mama always tells Sabrina that every living thing needs four things in order to grow:
Good food
Clean Water
Sunshine
and
Love
Sometimes if little girls won’t take a rest Mama throws in “Sleep” as number five, but I think that’s cheating.
Since it’s spring, Sabrina and I decided to do some growing too.
The first thing I decided to grow was my age. I’ve decided I’m two. Mama says that I have four more months to go before I really turn two, but I say, “NO!”
Then I scream.
That’s the great thing about being two. You get to say “NO!” all the time. You also get to stomp your feet. I learned how to do that in library class. Library class also taught me to clap my hands and roll my arms, but stomping my feet works best when I’m trying to look like I mean business.
I like screaming, too. Screaming is a very undervalued way of getting things done. Sometimes I skip “NO!” and go right to the screaming.
I think I must be doing something wrong, though. I do the NO! and the stomping and the screaming – but then I don’t get my way. Maybe you can help me find my error? Here are two examples:
Mama: Time for lunch.
Me: NO!
Mama: Time to come sit down for lunch.
Me: NO!
Mama: Yes, I hear you. You say, “no.”
Me: NO!
Mama: Right. No.
(Mama picks me up and puts me in my chair. I scream and then eat.)
Mama: Time to go upstairs and change your diaper.
Me: NO!
Mama: Upstairs.
Me: NO! (Then I stomp my feet.)
Mama: Now, please.
Me: AAAHHHHHHHHH! (That’s a scream. You just can’t tell).
Mama: OK.
(Mama picks me up and carries me upstairs. I scream and then I have a clean bum.)
See what I mean? Something always goes wrong in step eight.
The second thing I decided to grow was my words. I’ve given up those silly signs and I say all kinds of words. My favorite word is “NAUGHTY!” I like to point at Daddy and say, “Naugh-TY!” Then I giggle. Daddy is NAUGHTY a lot.
The next thing that I decided to grow was my body. Now I don’t fit into any of my clothes. All my pants are high-water, the ones that are long enough for my legs are too big for my bottom, my top half is too long for my bottom half, and my head won’t fit through any hole in any shirt any where.
Sometimes I want to grow and Mama’s won’t let me. You know my little ponytail that sits on top of my head and keeps my bangs out of my eyes while my bangs catch up with the rest of my hair? For a long time that little pony was my lovey. I twirled that little pony and it made me happy and soothed me to sleep.
But I don’t need it so much anymore. My bangs are as long as my hair and my soothing has caught up with my bangs.
Mama keeps asking me if I want a pony, though. The other night when I was getting ready for bed she wouldn’t leave it alone. She asked and asked and I kept saying “no.” Then she put me down in my crib and looked down at me.
Mama: Do you want your pony?
Me: No.
Mama: Do you want your little topknot?
Me: No.
Mama: Are you sure? Do you want your pony?
Me: (waving) Bye-bye.
I think she got the point.
Sabrina has decided to grow too. The first thing she decided to grow was her worry about bugs. If she sees a bug, she starts crying and runs into the house. If we go for a walk in the stroller and she sees a bug, she cries and flaps her arms. If the car windows are open, she cries. If she has to walk from the car into the house and she sees a bug, she cries.
Mama says it’s going to be a long summer.
The next thing Sabrina decided to grow was a garden. Oma gave her some seeds for peas and lettuce and carrots. Mama and I bought some compost and Daddy carried it to the garden. Daddy held me while Sabrina and Mama stirred all that compost into the garden soup pot. Then Mama planted the seeds while I cried for Mama and Sabrina screamed and ran into the house.
It was fun.
The next thing Sabrina decided to grow was her words. The other day she was playing pretend with her doll. Then her doll said, “Oh, Jesus!” At first I thought that Sunday School was really starting to pay off. But Mama said that Big Sister probably wasn’t calling on our Lord and Savior for intervention and help.
Finally, Sabrina decided to grow up and become a college student. The other night Daddy was grumbling about his students, who didn’t understand why he kept using the number 42 in a problem that required them to calculate a daily rate over a period of six weeks. I don’t get it either, but Daddy said, “For God’s sake—there are seven days in a week. Even Sabrina knows that.”
Mama tested the theory by yelling, “Hey Sabrina! How many days are there in a week?” Sabrina yelled back, “TEN!” Daddy said, “Congratulations, Sabrina. You’re now a “C” student in my Math 1020 class.”
Love,
The Noddle
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