How cute is Hannah these days? So cute that I actually did an image search on the web to find an image of a cute-o-meter. A cute-o-meter is the image that has been in my head lately when I’m looking at her.
Of course, like any mother would think about her child, I’ve always thought Hannah is adorable. She’s a wild one with a sweet-sweet soul. In the last three weeks, however, something has kicked in. She is out-of-this-world cute. She is Not-Mommy-Only cute. Other-People-Notice-Too cute. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that at about 21 months she’s getting…(looking around me and whispering)…easier. (Knocking on wood.) I think we may be getting out of that difficult ones. She understands me when I talk to her now. I’m pretty good at marketing things to talking toddlers, and now I can turn her around a bit on a good day. (I may be eating my words next week.) I remember now that this was a good age for Rachel, too. I did read in a book once upon a time that the terrible twos actually hit at one-and-a-half and two-and-a-half. Two itself is a coasting time. I’m thinking we’re on schedule.
Anyway, the temperature soared above 100 this weekend and our air conditioner decided to go on strike. We’ve been forced to beat the heat the old fashioned way. Fans. Popsicles. Sprinklers. I do live in a humidity free climate, so that helps a bit.
The first night I put a fan in Hannah’s room she must have been scared because she cried when I put her in her crib and didn’t stop. Normally she goes right to sleep. After about 10 minutes (okay maybe it was 5 minutes) I went in to calm her down and rock her to sleep. With Rachel we did this for about two years, but we cut it off with Hannah, so it is a treat to rock her before bed once in a while. For about 15 seconds she rubbed her eyes, closed her eyes and put her thumb in her mouth. Then suddenly she sat up. A goofy, devilish smile spread across her face. I sat back and enjoyed it, noticing the amazing wideness of her grin and cheeks, the whiteness of her teeth, the clearness of her eyes. We’re smiling and talking lovingly to each other and its like we’re goofy in love with each other (which I suppose we are). She’s touching the marks on my arms and my face. I am literally thinking that if this was a movie the scene would break to a picture of cute-o-meter exploding. (Weird, but true.) I’m too busy thinking this to stop her from putting her finger on my eyelid. My eyelid is closed with her finger on it. She says, “Bye Eye!” in her deep, raspy voice.
I never did find an image of a cute-o-meter. Somebody draw me one and I’ll post it here.
++++++++++++++++
And just as my wild one year old starts to settle down for a time, my four year old (who was my easy one last year) starts trying to assert her autonomy again. Yes, I think we are right on schedule. “I know that already” has evolved into “I know everything.”
An actual conversation between us this afternoon:
“I know that. I know everything.”
“I don’t think you know everything.”
“But Johnny knows everything.”
“I don’t think Johnny knows everything.”
“He thinks he does.”
Yes he does think he knows everything, and so does Rachel. But I have to remember that “everything” to Rachel might mean something very different to her than it means to me. I need to put it into perspective. For example, I get irritated at her competitiveness when I hear her use the words better or best constantly. “I’m the prettiest. I’m the best, right?” But to her everything good is best. She’s got 20 best friends. She’s constantly saying to people, “You’re the best!” and in a note to one of her cousin’s cousins (not her cousin, from the other side of his family) she had me write, “You are the best cousin to Johnny.” The other day when I gently scolded her for calling herself the prettiest, “Just say pretty, not prettiest,” Her answer was: “Hannah can be the prettiest too. We’re all the prettiest.”
Sometimes, ‘better,” “best”, “prettiest”, “first” do have competitive meanings for her. Maybe that’s okay, too. I have so repressed the competitive side of me that I feel uncomfortable playing games sometimes. Do I really need to give her the same complex? I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers.
Sometimes I think disciplining children is like trying to strike a balance that doesn’t exist–you are going to lean too hard or too soft. There is no “just right.” I am constantly on Rachel to “listen,” but from her perspecive why should that make sense? Is it rational that she should suppress her will to please mine? Not to her. And so we struggle. She goes over the line, and so do I. We talk about it afterwords. “It’s hard to be four!” she says wiping tears. Today, for the first time, we discussed WHY it’s important that I’m in charge–and I made some sense to her, I think. But there is that 10% of both of us that is still asking, “Why?”
+++++++
I have to add this one. It’s for my husband. Last night Rachel was watching her Dad set up our new swing-set in the yard. We were watching him from the upstairs window. She said, “I wish I knew how to do everything, like Dad.”
++++++
By the way, we’re ALL the prettiest, okay?
