Is it love? Encouragement? Stability? Challenge? Reflection?
Is it riding the Papa’s shoulders past flames and a surf board?
Hmmm. I suspect it’s merely time (Can you tell I’ve been trying to find some sort of story or idea that would connect to this photo? I tell ya, it’s been tough. This is the best I can do… for now.)
The Papa and I have been eagerly awaiting Stella’s entrance into the world of language for some time now. Of course, she’s only seventeen months, so it’s not like it’s really fair of us to be so giddy with anticipation. She’s frankly right on target as far as her language and comprehension skills go. But it’s been one of those developmental milestones that has had me stewing inside.
I think this has something to do with the fact that I, admittedly, can be… hmmmm…. well. Let’s just say verbose is a kind word. Or, as my brother has been known to call it - diarrhea of the mouth. Yeah. Thanks for that. Actually, yeah. Thanks for that. Really. It’s not like I support crunching your own personal communication style for the sake of conformity. But I do think we could all reflect a bit now and then as to whether or not our little styles are workin’ for us. Mostly, I think I do okay. I speak my mind, but I’m learning more and more how to step back and remain quiet. Okay, not a lot. But a little.
And that’s where Stella comes in. I’ve been noticing that as I shut my well-intentioned English teacher trap, she has more room to explore. I still ask her lots of questions – simple ones, mind you – and engage her with a lot of conversation, but I’m giving her more time to “respond.” And it’s working. She’s starting to communicate with greater confidence and enthusiasm. She’s starting to collect words like treasured souvenirs, and I can tell she understands far more than I could ever imagine.
(Verbally, at least, she understands quite a bit, and we’ve now entered the deadly don’t-you-dare-laugh-as-she-says-“shit” parrot zone. Case in point: I casually mentioned to the Papa the other night that our dear friends’ nineteen month old now says “F$*! it!” all the time, and Stella quickly followed suit. Oops.)
But let me set something straight, I don’t think I really have anything to do with all this wonderful, amazing and captivating growth. All my worrying about how “normal” her development is hasn’t sparked any growth at all. It’s only given me a headache. If I do say so myself, we’ve set up a pretty stimulating learning environment for Stella in our humble home. But as I learn more and more about what makes kids tick, Stella deserves my utmost respect for being a dynamic and precocious peanut all on her own. My increased silence may in fact allow her a bit more linguistic wiggle room, and that’s great. I’ll take a pat on the back any day. Even so, it’s not the sole spark. While we’d like to think that we have something (okay, everything) to do with her brilliance and beauty, I think the Papa and I realize Stella is marching at her own pace. And it’s far more fun to sit back and relax as we watch her march and stomp and learn and play.
Of course, we can always hold onto the notion that this scene, this crazy experience, had something to do with her ability to say “potato,” right?
No comments:
Post a Comment