Day 4: Book that Makes You Cry

I cannot remember the last time I watched a movie that didn’t make me cry.  It is a weakness I’ve always had.  But ever since giving birth to my first child (exactly five years ago today), the water works button on the back of my eyeballs has become overly sensitive.  I find myself getting teared up at non-Hallmark commercials and shows like The Biggest Loser or more recently, The Voice.

So of course my new-found trigger-happy emotional gun does not exclude things like books.  Weirdly, I can remember the first book that made me cry.  It was Les Miserables by Victor Hugo, in 7th grade.  (This makes two mentions of my 7th grade English teacher’s influence on my reading addiction.)  I only recently admitted that I had a real problem though, when I found myself finishing Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand and crying on a stationary bike in the middle of the fitness room at a very crowded YMCA.

Pathetic.

This story, The Tale of Three Trees, is my favorite Christmas story.  I’m sure I heard it as a child in Sunday school or perhaps at summer camp, but ran across a paperback version at the Scholastic Book Fair one year in college, and started reading it every Christmas season to whoever would listen.

No matter how many times I’ve read this book (nor to whom) I always get choked up at the very same line…And suddenly the first tree knew he was holding the greatest treasure in the world…  (No lie, tears in my eyes right now even as I type it.)  Even knowing the line is coming up isn’t enough to emotionally prepare myself to hold it together.  Two years ago I read the story in both Christmas Eve services at church and cried both times.  (To my credit, the entire congregation cried too, and it was nothing short of magical.)

If you have children and you do not own this book, drop everything immediately and purchase it.

Carter Sings Her ABC’s

I realize I do very little writing about Carter.  It isn’t that she’s still a blob of goo with no personality, and it isn’t even that her sister–who we thought would be the most outspoken, hard-headed, strong-willed, and possibly smartest of all our children–outshines her.  I think Carter might actually one day give Eliott’s mouth a run for its money.  My neglect of the Carter spotlight has likely been due to the majority of her cuteness being wrapped up in things that are so small and so fleeting that they are impossible to capture with words.  Until recently.

About two weeks ago, Carter’s vocabulary included approximately 10 words, none of which was Mama, by the way, but all of which included the things she loves and/or needs the most in the day: Daddy, Eliott, Boo (her blanket), milk, more, ray-rays (raisins), cookie, CA-EEKE!, toot, and nope.  Girl loves her daddy, has a sweet-tooth like her mom, and farts like a grown man.

So here’s the thing with communication.  For several months (or years, for some), kids know exactly what they want but they rely on about 3 choice noises to express themselves.  Though different, each of these noises has equal potential to make a mother’s head explode.  We repeat over and over, “What do you want, child?!  Use your words!”  But what we should be saying is, “Use MY words!  Your words are insufficient and hurt my brain!”  Even though I have two children (and have therefore been through this before) it is amazing how many things about Eliott’s verbal development I have forgotten.  Though I was very keen about keeping my high school classes up to date on the different parts-of-speech she was mastering (because they were not), I’m pretty sure I blocked out the transition from noise, noise, noise, to… WORDS.

All of a sudden, Carter decides to start talking.  And, now I live in The Busy World of Richard Scary.  This girl is verbally labeling everything, and don’t get me wrong, I live with her, but even I have a hard time understanding half of what she’s trying to say.  Eliott is the best interpreter of Carterese, but with this new surge in vocabulary, we’re all having a hard time keeping up.  And when I say the girl is relentless, what I mean is that she will repeat something like a scratched CD (absolutely no change in inflection or volume whatsoever, and no chance of growing tired before I do) until I decipher the word correctly and repeat it back to her.  Sometimes, even then, she continues repeating it out of what I can only imagine is a new found sense of pride and power.

A few nights ago John and I were on a semi-date (got rid of Eliott for free at church but they wouldn’t take kids under 3) with Carter.  From the back seat of the car she was pointing up and to the right and repeating “chis.”  So begins the guessing game (which is much more difficult from the front seat of the car, thus eliminating context clues).  John and I tag teamed her for about 4 straight minutes:

Chis

This?

Nope.  Chis.

Cheese?

Nope.  Chis.

What are you saying, Carter?

Chis.

Where?

Chis.

This?

Nope.

Cheese?

Nope.

Window?

Nope. (Now she’s smiling, I think we’re getting closer.)

Drink?

Nope.

These?

Nope.

CHEES!  CHEES! Chees-chees-CHEES! (Waving arms toward the window.)

Tree?

CHIS!

Oh.  Trees!  Yes, Carter.  Trees, those are trees.  Good girl.

(Carter starts clapping.)

I believe that now that she’s overcome the fear of being misunderstood, she’s trying to make up for lost time.  I cannot get the girl to shut up.  Even when it comes to this (most often in the car or the high chair): “Oh-KAY!  Enough!  Carter.  Enough.  It is time for you to hush,” she begins repeating, “Hussshhh, hush.  Hush.  Hush.  Shhhhhh, sh.  Hush.  Hush.  Hussshh.  Hush.”  At this point I’m either flooring it and looking for a cliff or slamming my head in the refrigerator door.

The best news in all of this, is that everyone gets to look forward to the imminent Carter Status Updates, which are just around the corner.  If child #1 thinks she hears donuts and smells stop signs, I cannot wait to see what child #2 has in store.