Getting Super Surprised by the 2-Year-Old
Our 2-year-old is a pretty happy kid. Maybe it’s because he’s a nut (he is the third child after all) and his lack of contact with reality leads to a blissfully unaware positivity. Or maybe, like his father, he was just born with an indomitable sunny disposition. Whatever the cause, he’s a smiley, giggly, energetic joy to be around.
Which makes it all the more noticeable when he’s upset. And with three other brothers, there are certainly things to make a kid upset. There’s a lot of pushing and jostling, and he takes most of this pretty well. But when the toy he is playing with gets ripped out of his hand, he cries foul.
Well, he usually just cries. That fake, jarring and annoying cry that is never accompanied by tears because it’s all an act. An act in protest of a legitimate wrong, but an annoying show nonetheless.
The other day however, it was a different story. The characters were the same, the 2-year-old is the protagonist and he’s playing with his stuffed Mickey toy. His younger brother is in the background eating crayons or something, and the bad guys (aka his two older brothers) enter the room.
You know how poet Carl Sandburg described fog entering the harbor “on little cat feet”? Well, the two older boys come into a room in whatever way would be diametrically opposite to that. Like a thundering elephant stampede. Or a pair of clobberhorses on the stairs.
Anyway, they rumble in and the 2-year-old takes little notice. He doesn’t care if they’re making a ruckus, he just wants to play with Mickey.
Of course, their lack of disruption to his quiet playing can’t be tolerated, so one of the older boys snatches Mickey out of the 2-year-old’s hands. I was observing nearby, and was prepared for what I was sure would be the loudest fake cry yet. But it didn’t come.
Instead, the 2-year-old stood up, and mustering all the ire a 37-inch tall kid can, he pointed a righteously angry index finger up at his brother’s face and said, “you soupy rude!”
He nailed it. It startled his brother and made me laugh on the inside. He of course meant to say, “you are super rude” but the indignation made clear any confusion left by missing or misspoken words.
He got his Mickey back and earned a bit of respect from his brothers at the same time. He also proved, as least at times, he’s capable of assessing the situation and shelving the sunny disposition when necessary.
Turns out this kid might not be as disconnected from reality as I thought. He might even by “soupy” good at navigating it.
Which makes it all the more noticeable when he’s upset. And with three other brothers, there are certainly things to make a kid upset. There’s a lot of pushing and jostling, and he takes most of this pretty well. But when the toy he is playing with gets ripped out of his hand, he cries foul.
Well, he usually just cries. That fake, jarring and annoying cry that is never accompanied by tears because it’s all an act. An act in protest of a legitimate wrong, but an annoying show nonetheless.
The other day however, it was a different story. The characters were the same, the 2-year-old is the protagonist and he’s playing with his stuffed Mickey toy. His younger brother is in the background eating crayons or something, and the bad guys (aka his two older brothers) enter the room.
You know how poet Carl Sandburg described fog entering the harbor “on little cat feet”? Well, the two older boys come into a room in whatever way would be diametrically opposite to that. Like a thundering elephant stampede. Or a pair of clobberhorses on the stairs.
Anyway, they rumble in and the 2-year-old takes little notice. He doesn’t care if they’re making a ruckus, he just wants to play with Mickey.
Of course, their lack of disruption to his quiet playing can’t be tolerated, so one of the older boys snatches Mickey out of the 2-year-old’s hands. I was observing nearby, and was prepared for what I was sure would be the loudest fake cry yet. But it didn’t come.
Instead, the 2-year-old stood up, and mustering all the ire a 37-inch tall kid can, he pointed a righteously angry index finger up at his brother’s face and said, “you soupy rude!”
He nailed it. It startled his brother and made me laugh on the inside. He of course meant to say, “you are super rude” but the indignation made clear any confusion left by missing or misspoken words.
He got his Mickey back and earned a bit of respect from his brothers at the same time. He also proved, as least at times, he’s capable of assessing the situation and shelving the sunny disposition when necessary.
Turns out this kid might not be as disconnected from reality as I thought. He might even by “soupy” good at navigating it.