Raw Drip

Dick and I have noticed that our 2-year old, Tabitha, is making huge strides in her ability to communicate with us.  No longer are her thoughts expressed in bits and pieces – a few words strewn about.  Now her thoughts are connected with a delicate little narrative for her parents to cling to when deciphering requests.   Still, while she communicates her desires more clearly, many of our conversations are of the circular, unproductive variety usually reserved for weekly one-on-one chats with one’s micro-manager.   These conversations are exhausting, leaving me and Tabitha emotionally spent and Dick and Adam utterly confused.  Take, for example, last night’s conversation with Tabitha at the dinner table…

Me: “Do you want some peas for dinner?”

Tabitha (suddenly bursting into tears): “I don’t want peas!”

Me: “Whoa, honey! Okay, okay, no peas.  How about some chicken?”

Tabitha (sobbing uncontrollably): “I don’t want chicken.”

Me: “What would you like, then?”

Tabitha (still sobbing): “I want…I want…I want peas.”

Me (spooning peas onto her dinner plate): “Okay, calm down – have some peas.”

Tabitha (tearfully staring at her dinner plate): “Mommy, I don’t want peas on my plate.”

Me: “Well, where do you want them, dear?”

Tabitha: “In a bowl.”

Me (moving peas from her plate into a bowl): “No problem, sweetie here you go – peas in a bowl.”

Tabitha (bursting into tears again): “No. No. I want chicken!!!”

Me: “Why are you crying, again?”

Tabitha (sobs): “Because I’m crying…” 

Me: “Well, uh, you don’t want peas – only chicken, right? Do you want your chicken in a bowl or on your plate?”

Tabitha (still crying, looking hopeless): “I don’t want chicken.  I want a banana.”

Me (handing her a banana): “Alright. Do you want me to help you peel it?”

Tabitha (pouting): “I don’t want you to do it. I want Daddy to do it.”

Dick (whispering to me, as he peels the banana): “What’s wrong with her?”

Me (to Dick): “I don’t know, but I’m pretty you must have done something to upset her.” 

Dick seems fairly mystified by Tabitha’s constant mood swings.  I’ve tried explaining to him how sometimes we women just want everyone to shut up and listen – to be with us as we’re sad and miserable – and not rush in to rescue us with silly things like logic or reason.  Besides, this is the easy part, I tell him.  Tabitha’s teen mood swings will pale in comparison to this stuff.  Consider these moments the rumblings of an awakening volcano.   

So dear Tabitha, let me assure you, it may not seem like it, but Mommy has spent years prepping Daddy for you with my own share of spontaneous emotional outbursts.  He’s still confused by it all – definitely a work in progress - so be patient with him and know that you always have a special place in Daddy’s heart, even if Daddy’s brain can’t figure out what’s going on with you.