We’re out in the screened in porch. It’s nice reading Dr. Seuss out here in the buggy season. He and I can smell Mama cooking through the open door. Garlic and spice. Smells like home.
We move on to reading a book of Fruits and Vegetables A to Z; G is Green Beans. There’s a picture of the large-leafed plant with a skinny pod hanging off. We’ve spent most of the day in the garden, so when I say "plant", the look of understanding in his eyes is undeniable. In the bottom right hand corner of the plant is a picture of a bowl of cooked green beans, all cut up and looking like dinner. Since it’s almost dinnertime, I know the picture is having an effect on the boy.
I explain to him that in order to turn plants into food, we have to cook them. That’s what Mama is doing right now. I realize at this moment that he really knows these words. Has heard them enough that even if he can't sound them out quite like we can, their meaning is no longer foreign to him.
I have a revelation. I call in through the doorway:
“Hey, Mama!” Roland looks up, as always, at the magic word.
“What!” She yells from the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m cooking!” comes the response.
I look at Roland and see the dawn in his eyes. I repeat to him:
"Mama is cooking the plants, to make them into food, so we can eat!"
He squints his eyes at me, scanning my face. Mama appears at the end of the hallway with a great smile to match Roland’s, having caught onto my game. I can feel the connections being made. I slide it home, trying to tie it all together:
“Mama is cooking the plants so they will become food, so we can eat. Because she loves us, and we are a family."
It is nothing short of amazing how time adds up, how much he is coming to understand, and change from one night to the next morning. He is still such a baby. So cute. We can still say that about our little boy. He is so full of gusto, unknowing and naive, unafraid to venture out, take up space, make noise. The wide open-mouthed smile of bliss or the one where he presses his lips tightly together in self-consciousness, come from the same source of energy: he knows he is loved. These moments of joy that he shows us he is experiencing continue to fuel our world. His screams of frustration will eventually turn into words that he will be able to use to express himself more clearly, should he choose to. This is the hope, at least, as dinner has become quite loud.
I've never looked to the future with so much excitement, so many ideas, such solid, tangible inspiration, while at the same time wishing that the present moment would never change one iota.
Much of the way I act toward my son is based on my opinion that he knows and is aware of much more than I am capable of realizing. His ability to understand comes long before his ability to express what he understands. As far as output goes, he makes lots of different noises, lots of agreeing with us as he toddles away: “Uh-huh, uh-huh.” Obviously much of the random noises are him just trying to figure out what’s going on. But at this moment in early June (I type furiously trying to document this as not to miss a single formative moment) his sophisticated communication comes in the form of three words:
DADA can mean “Tractor”, “Banana”, even “Orange", and of course, “Dada.”
BABA is “Bubble” and also “Orange” (ball), as well as the name of his sheep, Baba.
And MAMA is of course, “Mama.” He really yells this one.
"Uh-oh" is one of our favorites. I remember when Kaiden used to say it all the time. It’s truly a new thing how fast time goes. He’s already done eating. I’m gonna grab him before he starts screaming again.
