I am your child, yours no matter how I got here; if you adopted me, bore me, or just accepted me because someone else could not, I am yours. I cannot speak yet, not quite, but I am learning, and one day will be able to tell you how much you mean to me. For now, you have to go on my actions, on my expressions.
We are learning together, you and I. First I focus on the sound of your voice: if it is warm and loving I know I am ok. When your voice goes harsh and angry I know something is wrong, and as I only know my world I can only believe I am the “something” that is wrong. I am told that I will learn that “little pitchers have big ears.” I do have those “big ears”, for right now that is the largest input into my mind, my physic. I may not yet understand what you are saying, but I can certainly tell how you are saying it. Please be kind, speak kind of me, about me, and around me. Don’t think it does not matter, it does. What you say and how you say it, parental figures, will always matter to me. Even when I am a rebellious teenager (what is that, anyway) it will matter to me.
I watch you prepare food for me; I have learned that the presence of the bib means I am going to get fed! YES! My three favorite food groups are food, food and more food. You watch my face as you feed me, and you learn through my expressions and my actions what I like and don’t like; but don’t worry, my tastes will change. Keep trying those vegetables on me; someday I may like green peas.
When you come over to pick me up, I am watching you, studying how you move, your legs, your arms, your face. I am watching because I want that freedom, that ability to move around and not just be in this little crib you have set up for my safety. Speaking of my safety, thank you for the crib, for the gate that will keep me from falling down the stairs; for the locks you put on the cabinets to keep my curious fingers and face out of trouble. Because I am curious, that is how I learn, curiosity, and I need you to keep me safe. Safe from harm from others, safe from harming myself. When I grow up, I will have learned from all the subtle things you have done that I need to keep myself safe, but now I am relying on you to teach me, to help me, to keep me safe.
Hold my hand. It is so tiny compared to yours. Consider how my whole hand grips just one of your fingers, how tightly I hold on to your finger, your hand, your presence. For you are my safety and security, my own private TSA so to speak. I have very good senses, and when I don’t want to go to a new person, please consider that I am yours, you are what and who I know; help me to learn how to tell if a person is good or bad company. Help me to learn how to be ok in company, how to behave. But do it with words and care, please. Remember your big hand? It does not take much for you, with your strong arms and mighty hand, to hurt me, really hurt me. Remember that I am not trying to make you angry, remember that when I sense your anger I feel that it is totally my fault. I don’t know any better. Teach me, with love and kindness; I don’t want anger to be part of our relationship.
Oh, and that car seat? It’s ok; really, the main thing I am not happy about is being out of your arms. I really am not protesting the car seat manufacturing companies. I will learn, if I don’t already sense it, that the car seat is really for my own good. I will even learn to buckle my seat belt, if you take the time to teach me.
Well, there is much more I have to say, but I am tired now, so if you don’t mind, would you put me down for a nap?
That was lovely
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