If you’ve ever wondered whether your kid was paying attention when you lost it and uttered that curse word in a fit of frustration… they were. If you think your child isn’t listening because they’re deep into an episode of Dora when you and mommy are having a difficult discussion about their sick sister, they are. Even in my limited Daddy experience the ‘spongelike’ nature of children to hear all and see all is pretty impressive.
LM uttered her first curse word recently – shouting dammit in response to some great injustice (knocking into a wall or misplacing a princess figurine – not really sure). She’s been told that’s a bad word that we don’t use… so of course I found her grumbling at her princess figurines about being late to the ball and there was a string of dammit’s in there. I know I’ve never cursed in my life so I’m not sure where she got that. They hear all.
Outside of the horrible marathon incident, it’s been a pretty calm month in our household. Little Miss Junior had several weeks off of blood testing, and that was a welcome respite. Things felt like they were getting back to normal and we weren’t focused all the time on healthcare and doctors and numbers of blood cells. LMJ hasn’t had a fever going on two months now – and at the very least we are prepared for the next time that she does. Recently our respite came to an end and it’s back to semi-regular testing and monitoring. Still, LMJ is doing great, she is growing, she is healthy, and her medicine is keeping her counts up and our sanity in check.
So what about the ‘sponge’ analogy? Last night I’m working through the bed time ritual of LMJ’s big sister, Little Miss. We’ve had our bath, King Triton put on his show and even Rapunzel made an appearance (Tangled is all the rage over here). Teeth have been brushed and we’re settling down for some solid pretend play before books and bed time. Little Miss starts digging into her closet and pulls out a dolly. “Let’s play sick baby,” she says to me. I stare blankly in response.
“This is my new baby,” she says proudly. “Isn’t she soooooo cuuuuuuute” she crows. I acknowledge her baby’s cuteness.
“We’re all happy now because she’s home,” says Little Miss.
“Home?” I ask.
“From the hospital,” says LM, “She was very sick but she’s ok now. You have to pat her head gently because she was sick and now she’s home and we’re happy,” declares LM. I pat her head gently as instructed.
They hear all, they see all, and they understand a lot more than we realize, a lot sooner than we realize. From the mouths of babes.
She is home. And we’re much happier now.