Lost In Translation

Lucas, you know so many words, but trying to communicate with one another is still very difficult and frustrating for both of us. You and I had our first of what is sure to be MANY major communication breakdowns this morning.

You woke up in a delightful mood; happy and all smiles, but once we got downstairs and I started trying to make your breakfast, that all went to hell.

You spotted something on the cluttered kitchen counter top that you wanted and wanted BAD. You whined and and cried for it and kept saying "mama mama", which I took as "help me", but help from me was the LAST thing you wanted.

When I picked you up, you arched your back and pushed me away, so I put you back down on the ground, which only escalated your anger.

There was a pile of mail, a pair of your shoes, all the breakfast ingredients; a banana, milk carton, box of cereal, container of apple sauce, a cutting board, knife, bowl, spoon, and my wallet spilling out of my purse. As I meticulously picked up each and every item, showed you and asked, "is this it?", your frustration grew and grew.

You were so mad and started the ugly cry, complete with big crocodile tears, a huge pouty lip and a look in your eyes that pleaded, "why don't you understand me?!".

I was just about at my wits end with your repetitive "no's" and sad face that I almost broke down myself.
Why was I having such a hard time figuring out what you wanted and why was this all happening before 8 o'clock in the morning?

All of a sudden, it hit me.

You call Daddy's phone "mama" because his wallpaper is a picture of you and me. You also call my wallet "mama" because of the picture on my driver's license that you see as soon as you open it. The minute I handed my wallet to you, all was right in the world again. Thank God.

The best is yet to be.