Time goes on. I continue to discover life by observing someone else's exploration.
Grand boy Brandon is nearly nineteen
months old. He walks, he runs. He skins his knees. He cries and,
repeating words he's often heard, says, "Hold you" when he needs a hug.
He continues to learn sign
language, although for some reason he insists on signing "rhinoceros"
for "horse." He saw a real horse for the first time last week. He was
more impressed with the fence that separated them than by the animal on
the other side.
There have been times when he's
said a word that I couldn't understand, so he signed it. For example,
he said "gaga" and I was without a clue. So he signed "water." When
we're driving in the car he entertains himself saying words he's
learned, copying the inflection of some phrase used previously: "Mommy
bye-bye, Daddy bye-bye, Nana bye-bye...." until he puts you, or himself,
to sleep with the monotonous repetition.
Others asked, "What will he call you?" I
called both my grandmothers Gramma, even though it appears that's now
old fashioned. Today's monikers have more flair: Brandon's other
grandmother is Nana. And a friend decided to be Mimi to her grandson.
I, on the other hand, elected to allow the child to pick something
meaningful to him.
And one day he looked at me, pointed, and said, "Maw." Not Ma, not Moi, but Maw.
To my ears, the sound of "Maw" was
like fingernails on a blackboard.
Undoubtedly this is shortened version
of the word yet too difficult for him to say. To my ears it lacks
charm, wit, sophistication. But truth be told, so do I! I am what I
am, and this child led me to see that it's okay!
I've adjusted to Maw and now accept
it with pride. I like hearing my new name best after he's awakened
from a nap. I can hear him stir in his bed as he talks to himself or
Elmo, his sleep companion. When he tires of the solitude, I am summoned
to his rescue as he loudly calls, "M-A-A-W-W-W!" As I stop in the
doorway, I see this teacher, standing at the rail, grinning his
greeting, arms raised to be lifted from the crib.
And our next few hours together begin as he shows me life outside the lines.
No comments:
Post a Comment