Hop Dad

My Child Goes to 11

January 27, 2012 at 1:00 pm 1 comment

My daughter is loud. Sometimes she is obnoxiously loud. Now, I understand she is two. But when you combine her volume with her pressing need to have every question answered immediately this little two-year-old transforms into an audio jackhammer.

PING

Sometimes she is loud because she wants to find me. The door to our basement has a gate latch so the cats can get in and out but children can’t. If I am in the basement for a significant period of time and my daughter wants to find me, she shoves her face into the gap in the doorway and…

“ARE YOU DOWN DERE, DADDY? ARE YOU DOWN DERE, DADDY? ARE YOU DOWNSTAIRS DADDY ARE YOU DOWNSTAIRS DADDY ARE YOU DOWNSTAIRS?”

Even when we’re face-to-face she gets louder because she doesn’t think I can hear her over my immediate shushing response.

“I WANT A DOOCE-”

“Shhhhh…”

“-BOTS, DADDY! I WANT A DOOCE BOTS SAYS PLEASE AND THANK YOU!”

Her need to be heard and understood is pitted against my desire for peace and quiet, and reasonable conversation. It is clearly my mistake for assuming any of those concepts can be applied to interactions with a two-year-old.

LITTLE BILLY MAYS, HERE

Early one morning while I was relaxing on the couch she decided to share my glass of juice. I knew that meant I would mean never see the juice again, which was fine by me. Plus, Little Brother was peacefully sleeping in my arms so I didn’t want to disturb him by having a protracted conversation about sharing.

“YOU CAN SHARE YOUR DOOCE WIF ME, DADDY!”

“Shhhh… Yes, I can,” I whispered.

“YES I CAN.” Sluuuuurp, and down went nearly all of the juice.

She decided to compensate for the juice loss by pouring into the glass what was left of a half-empty can of sparkling water from last night’s dinner. When the can was empty she squeezed it with both hands to get the last few drops. Then she stirred it with a toy spatula from her kitchen play set. Then she stirred it with a spoon and sampled. Satisfied with the taste, she stuck her finger in it, swirled the juice around and suddenly belted out some Bob Marley.

“STEER IT UP! LITTOW DAWIN’, STEER IT UP!”

“Here ya doh, Daddy,” she announced. Then she pointed a finger in my face and said “I made some DOOCE FOR YOU!” It was like bring served juice from Billy Mays.

IT’S NOT ALL BAD!

Most of the time I find her volume entertaining. Her enthusiasm is infectious and when I am being cranky she can bring me out of it with a single declaration of joy over an ice cream dessert. Also, the tiny riot that occurs when I arrive home from work is a memory I will cherish.

However…

In retrospoect I have done something I truly regret. When teaching her the difference between “open” and “close” I used closing and opening our eyes as an example. “Close your eyes”, she would demand, and I’d pretend to slowly fall asleep. “Wake up!”, she would command and I would open my eyes. Great – she knows the difference between open and close.

Yet now whenever I am tired and begin to drift into a blissful nap on the couch…

WAKE UP!”

I may never sleep again.

Entry filed under: Being Dad. Tags: Dad, Family, Fatherhood, Kids, Parenting.