Nearly Two

Life with a near-two-year-old is dramatic; it revolves from uncontrollable laughter to outrageous fits of frustration, from the comforting softness of blankets and plush animals to the adventurous excitement of trees, parks, and bumblebees.

Frankly, the drama is exhausting. Not painful exhaustion. Remarkable exhaustion. Remarkable because I have no idea how so many toys could find their way into so many nooks and crannies in so little time. Remarkable, the way a pair of raised and excited eyebrows can drive you to play Ring-Around-The-Rosies, "AGAIN!" Remarkable how many ways there are to rephrase requests and commands and directions when they go unheard, or misunderstood, or disregarded. Remarkable how continuously my daughter's delightful new phrases, delightful new expressions, and delightful new movements parade before me; remarkable, my inability to capture, prolong, or in some miraculous way immortalize them - hard as I mentally, daily try.

I must say that Lucy is an extremely obedient child. She is helpful, and polite, and compliant, often. I have zero complaints. The fact remains that in less than a month, she will be officially, curiously, independently, dependently, two.

A smattering of evidence:

When an outing is eminent and shoes must be donned, "no mama!" "no dada!" are the phrases that remind us once again that we should not attempt to aid the process - AT ALL.

The rocking chair where Lucy has, for the last year and a half, been comfortably seated on mom or dad's lap for story time is no longer a place of shared occupancy. As I listened to the screaming from Lucy's bedroom the other day I recognized that Wes had tried to sit in the rocker with Lucy on his lap. I admired my husband's patient explanation: "Honey, this is not YOUR chair," and several other brave comments about sharing. Tonight I sat at Lucy's feet to read her bedtime stories.

If, in haste, I mislabel something: like accidentally calling a cow, a horse or purple, pink, etc. Lucy quickly corrects me: "Ac-cha-ly, COW!" she says. "Ac-cha-ly, PINK!" The teenage quality of her voice is at times unnerving.

A driving episode a few days ago. Me, driving; Lucy, in car seat. Me, watching from rear view mirror as Lucy starts squirming her hands out of her car seat shoulder straps. Me, demanding that she put them back through. Her, bursting into broken hearted tears. Me, pulling over, helping her to properly position her arms under the straps, explaining happily that that's the safe thing to do. Her settling down. Us, continuing the drive. Her, ever since, saying with a look of betrayal mingled with just a pinch of spite, "Mama says no."

BUT, (and I bold that conjunction with purpose), one of the best parts of Lucy's approaching pre-school status is the diversity! We are having such fun with "projects," and games, and make-believe stories, and imaginary play. Can't wait to post our finger painting pictures.

For the record: This little girl has brought a happiness into our lives that is unimaginable. I pray for greater patience to play, and interact, and watch; for greater discernment about discipline; for greater presence in every seemingly insignificant moment, for memory of these days!