Before Anonybabe was born, I fantasized about what our biggest challenges would be as parents.
As languid bookworms who wrinkle our noses at sporting events, I figured Anonyhub and I would have a jock who only felt alive when his body was in motion, and who felt a library was a self-insulating crypt. I imagined we'd have a vast expanse of "huh?" to cross to understand each other.
I'm not ruling all of that out quite yet, but it turns out the challenge of being a parent is having a kid who is just like you.
Anonybabe gets so completely absorbed by whatever she is doing that she does not want to change it. Period. She'll cry lustily when we tell her her stinky diaper has to go; she'd rather stay in it than have to pull herself away from whatever she's doing. She'll flail and fuss when we try to change her from her pj's to her clothes, only to have her flail and cry again when it's time to change her from clothes to pj's. She hates the idea of getting on the potty, but once she's there we have to pry her off so she doesn't get baby hemorrhoids. She doesn't want to go eat when she's playing, and she doesn't want to go play when she's at the table. But no matter how much she protested about a thing before doing it, once she's doing it she's happy as a clam. Super content, until you try to move her to the next thing.
I may or may not be guilty of such a thing myself. Bloody shit, am I really that unwieldy and annoying?
Well, that was over almost as soon as we started.
Physical therapy.
Next week, Anonybabe has her fourth and last session. Her physical therapist told Anonyhub today that she was happy to continue, but didn't think it was necessary. Anonyhub, who told me just last week that he planned to do only one month's worth of sessions, enough to determine that Anonybabe's "legs weren't put on backwards," agreed. The physical therapist will write up a report suggesting activities we can do to help build Anonybabe's strength, and we'll go our separate ways.
Anonybabe is what we thought she was from the beginning. Stunningly, deliberately, willingly slow to move. With the low muscle tone to prove it.
More power to her for it. She fits right in in this family. When the therapist asked her today what her favorite thing to do was, she answered "going to da libwawy!" It gives me flashbacks to the beautiful summer days I used to spend lounging in front of my parents' television watching PBS, or reading, reading, reading until my eyes hurt.
We'll all try to be more active together. Take long walks. Maybe we'll keep one eye towards moving to a warmer, more rural climate where we can roll out of bed and run outside to play without so much forethought.
But I'll also hold this experience in my heart when I'm told Anonybabe is different, is frustrating, doesn't fit. I'm gonna help the girl out when she needs a push. But ultimately I'm gonna let the girl be herself. Slowness and all.
I was singing to Anonybabe at bedtime last night, looking for new tunes to try on her, and pulled out "My Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music.
"Oh, I like this song," said Anonybabe. "This song makes me happy!"
She let me sing a couple more lines, until I got to the part about snowflakes staying on my nose and eyelashes.
"I have eyelashes!" exclaimed Anonybabe, fingering them. "And I have have eyes!"
And then, as chipper as a Barney character, "And I have a nose....with boogers in them!"
Anonybabe has learned to say "Yes, please," and "No, thanks," without being prompted.
I'm proud of her, of course I am, and I'm freaking proud of us parents. Do you know how dogged you have to be to insist a 2 year old say that? (We have not been so dogged about other things that would probably serve her better, like combing her hair, but I won't digress on that just now.)
I think she finally figured out that if she's polite, she'll have us wrapped around her little finger. So true. Not to put too dark a spin on it, polite speech is about the most powerful form of manipulation there is. Flattery will get you everywhere and manners are a form of flattery. In a way, you're saying "I value you enough to jump through this arbitrary speech hoop just to show you that I'll go to the trouble to please you." It's a weird, often heartless display of deference. In theory, I don't think the words "please" and "thank you" are as important as empathy, and honesty, and affection. But I needed to hear Anonybabe using those words to me. I couldn't wait for her to be indoctrinated into polite-speak, even though Anonyhub and I agreed that there was nothing so bullying and disheartening as hearing a kid give a rote "thank you" after being prompted by their parent.
Don't get me wrong, I think manners are important. It is important to value other people in everyday conversation, to make them feel appreciated and nice. But polite speech has a way of putting up walls sometimes, a way of keeping us from being forthright.
So now that our little Eliza Doolittle knows the verbal ropes, I should turn my attention to teaching the empathy/honesty/affection stuff I now wish I'd focused on making the behavioral baseline. I hope we haven't shot ourselves in the foot by making it abundantly clear that she should say what we want to hear, and not what she thinks/feels.
