Believe it or not, my “charming” two-year-old can be very insulting. Completely. Unintentionally. Very insulting. Randomly she will shout things like “Momma!–you need help!” from the other room, and I’m left wondering ‘where did she come up with that?’
Here’s an example from a couple days ago: The women in my immediate family have been blessed with prominent varicose veins. On the few occasions when I have mentioned it to girlfriends of mine, they assured me that their varicose veins were just as bad–or worse. That is, until they actually looked at mine. Then they would raise their eyebrows and quickly retract their statements: “Okay, mine aren’t that bad.”
So when I’m wearing shorts, the ever-observant Mara (who has just discovered “boo-boos” having inflicted herself with her first “serious” boo-boo over Memorial Day weekend) will bend down with great concern and ask dramatically, “Oh, what hap-pened?” She already has mastered the ‘I-might-pass-out-I-just-saw-blood’ inflection, and she is only two.
“They’re varicose veins, Mara,” I say, trying not to be disturbed that even my two-year-old sees my veins as extraordinary. Sometimes “just the facts” are all she needs, but not this time. She’s pretty concerned.
“What haaaappened?” she asks again breathily, still bending over, looking at the back of my legs. ” . . . whyyyyy?”
Flippantly, I say, “I’m getting old.”
She didn’t miss a beat. “You’re not getting old!” she says, as if to clarify. “You already are old!”
Thanks, sweetheart. First, you insult my legs. Now my age. At this rate, I will be in therapy by the time you become a teenager and start insulting me on purpose.
I have a new rule: Never feel insulted by what your two-year-old says to you, no matter how insulting it may be.