Last night after church we experienced the moment I have been dreading. I knew it was coming. I knew it was only a matter of time.
We had a pizza dinner/church business meeting, so while we ate pizza, our pastor and other church leaders were in the front of the room discussing church business. The room was largely quiet as everyone ate, when Mara dropped her fork on the floor. She was across the table from me, so I couldn’t reach it.
“Fork!” she shouted. “Fork!”
Only she can’t enunciate those ‘r’s yet, so when she says ‘fork,’ it comes out tooootally different. Actually. . . . it comes out really bad! And since I wasn’t instantaneously picking up the fork, Mara kept shouting, even louder, “Fork!! FOOOOORK!!!”
Fortunately her voice carried only to the three tables around us, who understandably were staring in shock at my 2-year-old daughter as I said quietly, “Fork–she’s saying fork.”
“Just to clarify!” the woman next to me laughed. There was visible relief on the faces of others.
Since Mara was still shouting ‘fork,’ I turned to the girl who was sitting next to her across the table. “Do you mind picking up the fork, just so she will stop shouting that?. . . Thank you,” I said apologetically.
The more I thought about it, the more I understood the old philosophy, “Children should be seen and not heard.” Or at least, at church business meetings, until they can enunciate properly.
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We folded four loads of laundry today. Well, I folded, and Mara did the commentary. When I pull each article of clothing out of the basket, she announces to whom it belongs: “Mawa’s shirt! Micah’s sleeper!”
Then Mara found two of my no-frills white Hanes sport socks and held them up.
“Sooo cute, Mommy!” she exclaimed with a smile.
We need to discuss what “cute” means–because that’s not it! I started laughing and Mara said, “Call Gama Bubben!” (She knows I call Grandma to share cute stories.)
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When Mara woke up this morning, I took her straight from her crib to the changing table. She carried Blue Bear with her. I do this every morning, assuming that after she sleeps all night, her diaper will need to be changed.
“Mara, is your diaper wet?” I asked her, expecting full agreement.
“No,” she replied with a puzzled inflection. Then she held Blue Bear up to her face and finished, “Blue Bear?!–must be you!”
