The Sad Boy on Page 4

Mia’s vocabulary is exploding in front of our eyes.  I absolutely ADORE this stage that she is going through; the daily excitement over her new words, the bizarre American accent she uses when she over-annunciates things and the weird facial contortions is takes her to say the most basic of words are all so endearing that I want to stick her in a bottle and keep her 20 months old forever.

OK who am I kidding?  I don't REALLY want her to stay 20 months old forever; that would put a SERIOUS damper on my future life plans.  Suffice it to say, I am enjoying this stage immensely.

Tonight, however, her rapidly growing language skills brought us a new challenge.    We were enjoying some carefree time in the basement; Toby was perusing a Sports Illustrated and wondering aloud why Daddy hadn’t been invited to run against Usein Bolt in the 100m final at the Olympics while I was indulging in the latest Food and Wine magazine.  Mia, wanting to be part of the action, grabbed one of Toby’s books, and asked me to read it to her.

It was a rather boring book about 2 little kids who find an egg and the egg breaks and they are sad but then the chicken lays another egg and they are happy again.

(Who WRITES these books!?!?!?)

She was only partially paying attention until we hit the part where the boy was SAD.  I made a sad face as I said it so she would know what I was talking about and then I moved on.

Mia looked at me, looked at the book, and then promptly (and rather bossily) turned the page BACK and DEMANDED to know what was UP with the sadness.  Phrased in typical Mia-speak:

“SAD BOY?”

I explained that he was sad because the egg was broken and boldly flipped forward to the next page.

WOAH WOAH WOAH!!!! She proclaimed (In typical Mia –speak: “SAD!!!!”)  before turning the page BACK with her tight little fist.

She stared again at the sad little boy before making her melancholy observations,

“Sad HAT”

she lamented

“Sad SHOES”

as she pointed to his pitiful feet

“Sad BOY….”

she grieved, still holding tight to the page so I didn’t DARE try to tear her away YET AGAIN from her experience of this boy’s intriguing moment of anguish.

She sat very still for about 30 seconds, (which is probably the equivalent of 5 years to my dad) and then looked up at me with the most empathetic and hopeless look as she very sweetly asked, “HUG?”

Yes, Mia. You can hug the boy.

And so she gripped the book in her hot little hands and hugged the poor sad little boy with all of her love.

I’m still not quite sure WHY she was so fascinated by the poor sad boy on page 4 of the book, but I’m glad to see that she isn’t all just a bundle of mischievous energy; she can be pretty sweet, sometimes, too.