Yesterday was Monday. Monday means our weekly trip to HEB. A trip to HEB means we have to check out. Being in the check out line usually means Baby Gray becomes impatient.
Yesterday was different, though. Baby Gray was sad in the check out line because I had given in and let him have a squeezie (the fruit pouches they can suck the puree out of on their own) while we shopped. His squeezie hit empty about the time we parked in the check out line. He signed please; I explained we would get something else to eat after we checked out. He signed more; I explained we would get something else to eat after we checked out. He whimpered a little; I explained we would get something else to eat after we checked out. He got upset and wrung his hands; I explained we would get something else to eat after we checked out. About that time, an older lady got in line behind us. She tried to make him smile. She tried again. Then, she looked at me and asked, “Who teaches them to act like that?”
My heart broke. She didn’t ask in a way that implied she thought I taught him to throw a fit; she did ask in a way that implied he was being ugly with his actions. I tried really hard not to be rude when I explained that he simply does not have the words to express himself. He wanted some more of his snack and couldn’t understand why I wasn’t obliging. That’s it. He wasn’t manipulating me; he wasn’t being ugly.
In my goals for 2012, I vowed that I would remember that he is just a little boy.
I will take delight in my son. I will find joy in the fun times and the challenging times. He’ll turn two later this year, and we won’t have the terrible twos in our home. I’m not letting them in; we will pray them out. Even on days when things are not going so great, I will remind myself that he is just a little boy; he doesn’t plan to upset me or make me mad. He is merely expressing himself the best way he knows how. I will let him be little. I will strive to have patience, and take a break or count to ten when it runs out. Terrific twos, here we come!
I hope I can inspire others to remember that as well.
That wringing of hands IS hereditary though! And sometimes there is a little shuffling of feet with it! I know for sure who his mama is! XOXO