Blog | Lindsey Smallwood

Little Loves

Lindsey Smallwood

Bobby, my oldest, is learning to talk.  He's had a handful of words for a few months now, including his favorite  - "uh oh" - and my favorite - "cheers" - which he loves to do with his cup when we all sit down to eat. 

In the last few weeks the number of words he says has grown exponentially.  I am constantly surprised as he points out moons and monkeys in the books we read and clearly asks the checker at the grocery store for a balloon.  It's been a fun new season and it's hard not to feel all swollen-up with pride.

It's also been a super frustrating season.  Because now that Bobby knows he can get a lot of what he wants by smiling and saying "pwweeese", when we can't figure out what he wants, he becomes *really* upset.  Head in hands, shoulders drooped, loud crying.  It isn't pretty.  Or easy to watch. 

Last night at dinner Bobby wanted something.  He was pointing and eagerly babble-talking in his booster seat. 

I pointed to the spaghetti.  

No.  He shook his head.

I offered him some mozzarella cheese, which he took and then spit out.

A tomato slice?

No.  He started to whine.  I feel my blood pressure increase.



A fork?


More butter?

No.  More whining. LOUDER whining.  

He started pointing in Chris's direction at which point Chris offered his wine glass and I scolded Chris and Bobby just ignored us, asking for something else.  Something we couldn't understand.  

Bobby pointed again and gave us his best "Pweeese!"

And then Chris knew. 

And then I knew. 

And then this happened. 

Then this.

Some sweet babbling and cooing and then this.

And a little more of the first bit. 

A little love for my little loves.  Right there at the table.

Yes pweeeese.