Sometimes she reminds me of me
Just sometimes.
1) Today Daisy was rolling down a hill at the playground near our apartment. She really wanted to do it, but it's a long hill and she was hilariously slow in her descent. Midway down the hill, she stopped and just sat there, covered in grasses, staring into space. I asked her what was going on, and she told me she was thinking about the music from the Curious George movie (the only movie she has ever seen, to this date). She said, "Mama, I like to imagine the music in my head. I imagine it all the time."
This touches me. It reminds me of when I was a kid. I was the same way. Music made a strong impression on me, and I latched onto particular songs and pieces and re-lived them in my head frequently. I was emotional and introspective. I can tell she has these parts, too. She also told me the music was purple; now that one's beyond me! I never had that power.
2) There was a very inviting tree at the playground and I suggested climbing on it. Daisy felt she needed help, and her way of expressing this was to say to me, "Don't just stand there. Please help me up!" I told her, kindly, that she shouldn't say "Don't just stand there." She was immediately at great pains to explain to me that she had only meant to communicate that she needed help getting into the tree. I realized that she hadn't meant to be rude; she didn't know "Don't just stand there" was a rude thing to say. This is something that happens with my girl, you see. Sponge-like, she soaks up almost everything she hears, and then she tries out new expressions on us--often before she knows what they mean. One such example recently was "In case you hadn't noticed." She learned this expression and for a day, she started most of her sentences with it, even when it made no sense. She must have heard "Don't just stand there" somewhere and decided to try it out.
After I told her that "Don't just stand there" wasn't the best thing to say, she said, "I wish I had an eraser. I wish I could erase every time I say a bad thing." I would have been more concerned about this sentiment, except she delivered it in a matter-of-fact way, not a distressed way. Still, it touched me, too, because it reminded me so much of myself (except I probably would have been distressed while saying it).
3) An hour later, Daisy again brought up her mistake in saying "Don't just stand there." We had completely moved on to other things, so I was surprised this was on her mind. Again, she explained to me that she had not meant anything by it and that she had just wanted me to know she needed help getting into the tree. Again, I was so strongly reminded of myself. I remember worrying and worrying about things I said, especially when I felt misunderstood-- when an adult thought I had intended something negative and I hadn't. Those experiences were very painful for me.
However, Daisy didn't sound distressed--just like she really needed me to understand. So I told her that I understood and that I wasn't bothered in the least by what she had said. I tried to explain (and I hope she understood me) that that's what mothers are for: helping children figure out what certain words and expressions mean, and the best time and place to use them. I said she should never worry about what she said to me, and that I was only telling her what I did because I thought it would be helpful.
It's just... I can hardly believe how deep things have gotten with her already. She is not even four yet! I can see she is sensitive and thoughtful, which is great, as long as she doesn't become as morbidly sensitive and distressed as I sometimes was as a kid. Ugh.
I love her so much.
1) Today Daisy was rolling down a hill at the playground near our apartment. She really wanted to do it, but it's a long hill and she was hilariously slow in her descent. Midway down the hill, she stopped and just sat there, covered in grasses, staring into space. I asked her what was going on, and she told me she was thinking about the music from the Curious George movie (the only movie she has ever seen, to this date). She said, "Mama, I like to imagine the music in my head. I imagine it all the time."
This touches me. It reminds me of when I was a kid. I was the same way. Music made a strong impression on me, and I latched onto particular songs and pieces and re-lived them in my head frequently. I was emotional and introspective. I can tell she has these parts, too. She also told me the music was purple; now that one's beyond me! I never had that power.
2) There was a very inviting tree at the playground and I suggested climbing on it. Daisy felt she needed help, and her way of expressing this was to say to me, "Don't just stand there. Please help me up!" I told her, kindly, that she shouldn't say "Don't just stand there." She was immediately at great pains to explain to me that she had only meant to communicate that she needed help getting into the tree. I realized that she hadn't meant to be rude; she didn't know "Don't just stand there" was a rude thing to say. This is something that happens with my girl, you see. Sponge-like, she soaks up almost everything she hears, and then she tries out new expressions on us--often before she knows what they mean. One such example recently was "In case you hadn't noticed." She learned this expression and for a day, she started most of her sentences with it, even when it made no sense. She must have heard "Don't just stand there" somewhere and decided to try it out.
After I told her that "Don't just stand there" wasn't the best thing to say, she said, "I wish I had an eraser. I wish I could erase every time I say a bad thing." I would have been more concerned about this sentiment, except she delivered it in a matter-of-fact way, not a distressed way. Still, it touched me, too, because it reminded me so much of myself (except I probably would have been distressed while saying it).
3) An hour later, Daisy again brought up her mistake in saying "Don't just stand there." We had completely moved on to other things, so I was surprised this was on her mind. Again, she explained to me that she had not meant anything by it and that she had just wanted me to know she needed help getting into the tree. Again, I was so strongly reminded of myself. I remember worrying and worrying about things I said, especially when I felt misunderstood-- when an adult thought I had intended something negative and I hadn't. Those experiences were very painful for me.
However, Daisy didn't sound distressed--just like she really needed me to understand. So I told her that I understood and that I wasn't bothered in the least by what she had said. I tried to explain (and I hope she understood me) that that's what mothers are for: helping children figure out what certain words and expressions mean, and the best time and place to use them. I said she should never worry about what she said to me, and that I was only telling her what I did because I thought it would be helpful.
It's just... I can hardly believe how deep things have gotten with her already. She is not even four yet! I can see she is sensitive and thoughtful, which is great, as long as she doesn't become as morbidly sensitive and distressed as I sometimes was as a kid. Ugh.
I love her so much.
posted by Sarah Goss at 9:36 PM
1 Comments:
Sunday Daisy explained to Susan that I had to put drops in my eyes because my eyes were old.
Gompy
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