Wants Beyond Words

Late last night Sumie and I concurred that Mimi's entering a new phase in her life.  Each day she makes more and more impassioned, and undistractible, pleas for whatever takes her fancy.  Unfortunately, Mimi's vocabulary, and even pointing skills, are woefully inadequate when it comes to getting her point across.  This, multiple times a day, leads to frustration...for both daughter and father. 

Let's take a look at typical day...

Mimi wakes around 8:30 and requests her father's presence by gurgling contentedly or moaning annoyedly.  Once the bedroom door is opened, she immediately sets about cleaning up the blankets and socks lying in her crib.  These are held aloft in front of the father, who understands that they are to be set aside.  Mimi then puts her arms in the air and lifts one leg onto the rail of the crib as if to launch herself to freedom.  This makes for a very precarious situation.  Mimi knows full well that the only way for her father to resolve it is to pick her up.  This he does and then immediately sets her down on the floor in response to her massive squirming cues. 

After getting changed and dressed, and being kicked out of Papa's shower, it's time for breakfast.  Mimi points at her high chair and says, "Uhhaaahhh!"  I have taken to recognize this phrase as, "Hurry up and feed me, fat man!" 

As her father prepares milk, juice, and diapers for a morning outing, Mimi decides that it's time to sit in the humidifier box.  The height of this box - joy of joys - makes it impossible for Mimi to get either into or out of.  Standing next to the box, Mimi points at its interior and grunts.  This is my signal to pick her up and place her inside.  12 seconds later, as I am pouring milk, I hear the extraction request - "Aaahhhungh!"

We eventually get into the car to go shopping.  Today is Costco.  Once out of her car seat, Mimi lets me know that she wants to walk by thrashing about as violently as she can while I'm juggling her, the diaper bag, my wallet, sunglasses, and keys.  Hand in hand we walk to the entrance where I bundle her into a shopping cart.  No objections.  For 3 minutes.

Suddenly, two aisles deep into the warehouse, Mimi opens the floodgates.  There is no explanation.  No pointing, no gestures, no grunts, just pure, abject displeasure.  A woman roughly my age who, without doubt, did not have children, shakes her head and mutters, "Jesus."  Hmm, funny that she took in vain the name of the one person who could've explained what Mimi wanted.  Miracling a bottle from the diaper bag, Papa soon quiets Mimi and sets about finishing his shopping as quickly as possible.  The two then return home. 

Mimi has her nap routine down so well now that there is little ambiguity when it comes to what she wants.  A rub of the eyes followed by a bottle in the cradle means she'll be down for a good 1.5 to 2.5 hours.

The after-nap wake-up and lunchtime feeding are a virtual repeat of the morning's activities, only this time Mimi's fully dressed to begin with.  In addition to saying it's time to eat by pointing at her high chair, she also runs to the fridge yelling, "Bi!"  She's making sure that I don't forget her bib. 

The weather being beautiful, we decide to hit the beach for our afternoon outing.  It's 7 minutes away.  Thank you, San Francisco. 

We park and make our toward the water.  Papa is carrying a diaper bag, sand pail and toys, a picnic blanket, and Mimi.  Walking through the deep sand he is, in a word, unstable.  This is when Mimi decides to rip his glasses off and throw them on the beach.  I interpret this as, "It's time to stop!"

The mat laid out, Mimi points for her pail and, shovel firmly in hand, begins to fill it. 

This lasts for about half an hour.  Until something big, blue, and noisy catches her attention. 

Mimi wastes no time with words, pointing, or even grunts.  She strikes off at full baby-on-sand speed for the ocean.  I understand this request.  I've always loved the water and Mimi has, without doubt, inherited the trait.  She doesn't need to ask twice, or even once, really, to go play in the waves. 

Covered in sand from head to toe, we take a quick bath once home.  Calm and relaxed, Mimi decides to take part in a little pre-dinner drawing.  She pulls out her drawing pad and pleads for Papa to sketch her favorite character (coincidentally, the only character her father can draw) Miffy.  She does this by shouting, "Mimi!  Mimi!"  I don't think she has her "f" sound down just yet.

Miffy in hand, she then adds her own touches.  This generally results in Papa having to erase everything and drawing Miffy once again.  Perhaps that's why he's gotten so good at it. 

Mimi's vocabulary is growing each day, but so too is the number of things she wants to eat, play with, or destroy.  I find myself uttering the phrase, "Use your words!" quite a bit these days, usually to no avail.  Still, a few are getting through, like "juice," "bib," and "go," so I guess we're on the right track.  I can't wait till she get's to the point when she can say, "Papa, would you like for me to scratch your back?"  "Yes, yes I would."