Shoes Are A Universal Language

When my son was 6 months old, I couldn't wait until he could crawl. When he was 9 months old, I couldn't wait until he could walk. When he was 1 1/2 years old, I couldn't wait until his meaningful babble became meaningful words. Everyone always tells me, "Just wait, you'll wish you could take that back when it happens." But that has yet to happen. I love each advance in his journey to become his own person, and I love watching him grow into a little man.

I'm always so curious to know what awaits us, what adventures are ahead in the world of child-rearing. Now that my son is 2 years old, I cannot wait until we have conversations. We have them now, but they are still somewhat one-sided and parrot-like. They usually go a little something like this:

"Mama, outside?"
"No buddy, it's too hot right now. We'll go outside later."
"Mama, outside?"
"No, we'll go outside later. When the sun isn't so bright. Let's color instead."
"OUTSIDE?!!!???!!!"

Now this is the point in the conversation where things begin to be hurled against the patio doors, in an effort to convince me that I can't understand what he's asking. Things are thrown, doors are banged, and tears are shed. Believe me, kid, I know what you want. But that's not how you get it in this house. And I commend his efforts to communicate, and hope he knows it's just as frustrating for me that he only gets part of our conversations, as he is sure that I only get a part of them as well. But last night, we had a break-through.

My mom watched my son last night, a weekly ritual that allows my husband and I to escape back to pre-kids for a few hours. My mom, who loves my son dearly, cannot willnot put him to bed. It doesn't matter if we get home at 9:30pm or 11:30pm, we are always met with his little face in the front window when he hears the garage door go up. So, our night always ends with a battle of putting an over-tired kid to bed. Last night, my son was convinced that it was time to go outside. We had our normal tears, but instead of throwing and banging things, he simply went and picked up his shoes, and while tears streamed down his face, he held them up pleadingly. He looked from me to the door, his shoes dangling from his pudgy little hands, and simply implored "Outside?". When I said no, it was time for bed, he cried harder and thrust his shoes upward at me, "Outside! Mamaaaaa, outside!" The fact that he tried to convince me with a pair of sandals and some sincere tears was almost enough to make me give.

Instead, we went upstairs and while he cried tears of exhaustion, I changed his diaper, gave him a sippy cup, and plunked him down in his bed. He promptly lay back on his pillow, his eyes fluttering, and was asleep before I could leave the room. I put his little sandals back, proud that he had learned a new bargaining skill, one that I am sure he will use again today. I can't wait to see what the next advancement is, but for now, shoes will have to be our universal language.