Monday, August 16, 2010

I am not a purple dinosaur!

My mom likes to tell the story of how I didn't talk until I was two years old. She says that my older brother and sister spoke for me, so I had no need to speak for myself. Now that my four-year-old tries to speak for my two-year-old, I understand why I have spent my life trying to find my own voice.

Sometimes the older one is indispensable as a translator. There are times when my two year old is desperately crying for something I can't understand.

"Daayy awnt joo peas."
"She said she wants juice please."
"Thank you sweetie"

That is an easy one, but it is hard to remember some of the gobbledygook she says sometimes. The real problem is when the older one is obviously completely wrong in her translations. Sometimes it is a little self serving like, "She told me she wanted me to play with her doll." or "But Daddy, she wants to share her candy with me." But there are also days when the imagination mixes with her flare for the dramatic.

"I am not a purple dinosaur!"
"She called me a purple dinosaur! I am not a purple dinosaur!"
"Honey, she didn't call you a purple dinosaur"
"Yes she did. I am not a purple dinosaur!"

This usually happens on the same day that the tag on her shirt is itching her neck and needs to be cut off, and the macaroni and cheese is too hot and burns her mouth so badly that she needs ice. My absolute least favorite unneeded dramatic moment happens like this:

Little Sister says, "No" to absolutely nothing I can understand.
Big sister says, "Yes" just to oppose her sister.
"Yes", now they are both crying.
"Yes, Daddy I was saying yes and now she is saying yes too."

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