Gingerbread Pride

A normal Saturday included two little boys waking up way too early, breakfast, playing outside and at some point during the day laundry and cleaning house. Then, of course, lunch, grocery shopping, dinner, etc. Too much to be done.  Especially when you were fighting the depression you felt yourself falling into. And as on most Saturdays she knew all these tasks would be done without help. Such is life she thought.

As she stood at the stove thinking of all those Saturday tasks that lie ahead a blond curly haired little boy in blue, footed Cookie Monster pajamas walked in the kitchen. He smiled a big smile as he rubbed his eyes. “Good morning little boy. Did you sleep good?” She picked him up and snuggled with him. “You are too sweet in the morning. Huh. Um-m-m-m, I love those morning kisses.” He laid his head on his mom’s shoulder and let her rock him back and forth as she loved to do. Then it was down for that little one. He had no time for all this mommy and baby stuff. He had things to do and places to go which included waking up his brother. “Down, down!”, he said, pushing against his mother. She complied, putting him down and giving him one last kiss. “What do you want for breakfast?” She knew this was a futile question. This child didn’t say more than a handful of words and never more than one at a time.

She had taken him to the doctor inquiring about the lack of vocal expression. The doctor finally gave a diagnosis of “case of older sibling in the house”. “Meaning what” she had asked. “Meaning he lets the older child talk for him. Try to stop the older child from always answering for this one. And when he does don’t accept the answer; try to get this little one to say what he wants.” He does say it….with a very loud scream and a stomp of his foot.

“What do you want for breakfast little boy?” She kissed him once more as he ran off and she heard “Fruit Loops!”. “It talked, it talked!”, she screamed. “I mean he talked, he talked! He said Fruit Loops! Do you hear me?!”, she yelled at her husband.

“I hear you.”

So much for parental pride. He is such an involved, participating father. What in the world! This was a reoccurring thought that ran through her head a minimum of once a day.

With great pride she ran after that curly headed toddler, snatched him up and as he screamed with excitement she kissed him on his face, his neck and his curls. “I love you, I love you, you little devil!” He threw his cubby arms around his mother’s neck, gave her a kiss on the mouth and then wanted down. This child marches to the beat of a different drum, I just hope I get to hear it some day!

She went back to the kitchen to finish up breakfast. I cannot stop smiling; this is going to be a great day. He can talk! He just doesn’t have a lot to say yet I guess.

Between the bacon finishing up and getting the eggs started she heard it. A scream followed by a loud crash and the breaking of glass. She jerked the frying pan from the stove and ran in the direction of the sounds. As she came around the corner from the dining room to the living room she saw the Christmas tree laying on the floor with two arms and one leg waving from the middle of the tree. “What in the world have you done little boy!” She pulled the tree upright. Underneath lay the non-verbal toddler with scratches on his face and a styrofoam gingerbread man in his hand. “Cookie”, he cried. “No, no cookie. That’s not a cookie sweetie, that’s just for the Christmas tree.” She picked him up and held him tight as he hiccupped and cried over his “cookie”. “Look”, she said while showing him that the Gingerbread man belonged on the tree. She took him back to the kitchen and showed him the gingerbread men cookies they had made the day before. “You can eat these but not the one on the tree”.

She took him back in to see the tree and the gingerbread man ornament now with permanent teeth marks in his forehead. She smiled, he’s going to hang on every Christmas tree I have forever.  He did and still does. 

P K