Speaking in a Different Tongue

For a person who values, no, treasures, quietness, I have two very verbal kids. To this first-time parent’s amusement, Julia spoke in paragraphs early on. (I didn’t know it was early at the time.) Way before 2, I could understand every last syllable she uttered and believe me, there were MANY. My listening abilities were stretched way beyond what they had ever experienced in my preceding 31 years. Then along came Brighton and, well, we wondered if he would ever crawl, much less walk and talk. Once he got his land legs, his mouth began spewing all that he had been wanting to say and couldn’t. Let me just say, he had storehouses slam full. After passing Toddler Talk Brighton’s Way 101, I remember being struck by how different his questions were to the ones I was used to hearing from Julia. I truly thought she had left no stone unturned, no thought unspoken, no ponder unpondered. Enter: just a little bit of testosterone. Brighton came up with a completely different set of questions which he asks whenever he likes. It is like he is looking out someone else’s car window at a strange planet Julia and I have never visited-though it is becoming more familiar to us now. He asks about the bridges, the roads and every street sign. He asks why God made all the buildings so different. That boy can point out ANY car that is like a friend or family members. He knows who has which tires. TIRES. He even knows what kind of car he wants when he "gets old" which seems to me, at this point, it will look a lot like Ramon's from Pixar's Cars movie. Nice. Road work paraphernalia is among his favorite things to inquire about. Things that speak warning or caution are most intriguing. He also knows when we are about to pass any sports stadium or practice field and then proceeds to ask all about the sport and “ ‘foo’ plays there?”.

The other day, just he and I were having a snack together and he began asking about outer space and how it was dark and why we couldn’t go there. Again, another subject never touched by Julia. It was early in the day (in other words, I had plenty of words left in me) so I started telling him all about astronauts. We even googled a few on the computer- incidentally finding out that “space” people really like Obama. Of course, I told him when he grew up he could study and train to be an astronaut and then learn to fly a rocket. So he asked, “Then I could go to outer space?” “Yes,” I told him anticipating another question by the look in his eyes peering out from underneath his hair. “Momma, would you go with me?” “Of course, Brighton.” (What else could I say? He’s 4! I am supposed to go everywhere with him!) Here’s my favorite part and why I am actually writing this, “Momma, when we go way up into outer space, will you hold my hand?”

You know the answer to that one, too. What sweet days I am in right now. I’d just soon keep him beside me in that swing up there with all his boyish questions ……….. and now, that picture is already 2 years old! He loves me and even really likes me right now. When he thinks of doing something dangerous, he still wants Jeff or me with him. When will all his “boyness” kick in and do these “dangerous” things without us or worse, without telling us? Now, when he thinks something, it just escapes his mouth with no filter at all. When will the filter be put in place and I will long to hear just one question in the car? Maybe it won’t. Maybe it will. In the meantime, I am going to hold his little hand every chance I get.