| | 10/08: "Shadiah doesn't take easily to strangers, but she likes you!" Her mother informed me about two weeks after I'd been coming daily to help with housework. About 4 days after I had begun the children's nearby great-grandmother died. The whole family struggled with that loss for a week, and during that time the 1 1/2 year old was lonely. Her parents were helping the older children deal with the grief, teaching them to not take it out on each other, watch their tempers and be extra careful to be loving.
Shadiah didn't say anything, but reached for her mother. Someone was in her place, had occupied her mother's arms all morning. This little boy was suddenly in the way, had been in the way for one month and Shadiah was jealous and needy. This boy was new, smaller than her, but somehow had found a way to always get into mommy's arms and get attention first.
Shadiah began going into the kitchen and watching the strange girl take all the dishes off the table, baptize them in the sink, and later tuck them back in the cupboard. After a few days of observation, she began standing on the girl's shoes, holding onto the legs of her pants. That was the signal she gave, and the girl understood and would toss her high in the air. Shadiah's grin burst into a laugh that shrieked when she was high in the air not touching anything, and bubbling when the girl caught her on the way down.
2/09: The 2 year old sits on stool nearby as I dry dishes, softly padding her feet on the kitchen floor and holding a bear. She hasn't talked yet, but makes squeaks, grunts, and mm's to get what she wants and needs. She often gets lost amid the raucous noise her 6 older siblings make, and thus became my shadow while I work, handing me laundry, standing next to me while I wash dishes, fold clothes, pick up toys, wipe off tables. More often than not she insists I swing her around. Her usual greeting to my arrival is to take my hands in hers, pull her feet up and hang there by her arms, waiting to fly with an expectant, smiling look in her eyes.
The gentle sound of her bare feet on the cold floor was the first I notice of her sitting around the corner of the counter. I swing her onto my hip and explain the importance of doing a good job of cleaning silverware. I always talk to her as if she could reply back with words, instead of throat noises. She could talk, but she won't. She didn't try walking for a long time, either. But one day, she got up and ran out the door, her mother not far behind and anxious to snatch her before she reached the road, but so thrilled at her accomplishment that there was not much scolding for her independence.
So I ask her questions, and wait.
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| | Posted 3/5/2009 9:19 PM - 30 Views - 2 eProps - 1 Comment
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