A 13 month old can have a tough life. They want so desperately to be able to explore the world on their own and tend to get very frustrated when they are unable to do so for a variety of reasons. First of those reasons may be that every three seconds, they fall on their faces and cry like wild banshees or they are strapped into a stroller, high chair or car seat. Secondly, their attempts may be limited by a worry-riddled Mama/Dada and a power hungry two year old (if the lucky tyke happens to have those at home). Lastly, the 13 month old may try to communicate their desires but given their very limited vocabulary, they struggle endlessly.
Take my Noelle for instance. The poor little thing has but 5 English words under her belt and then the rest is simply toddler gibberish. An episode in the car often goes something like this. Noelle asks for my attention while on the freeway by shouting "Mama..Mama.." I say "Yes sweetheart?" She then explains to me apparently about her favorite toy/snack/drink for that second in her lap "ahbodusldgusodigsodgsdf." I say "Oh yeah?" Then she drops it or flings it on the floor and states "Uh oh." After this, a finger points vaguely at the floor and then I can see the worry creep into her eyes. In a concerned pitch she asks "Ball?" Now I need to add that "Ball" is the term for every single noun in the world other than Mama, Dada, and bubbles. "Oh honey, did you drop it?" I ask, certain of the answer. Noelle pleads with me as her eyes grow big "Ball???" "I am sorry honey but I can't pick up your toy while I am driving." I say for what seems like the thousandth time. 13 month old land just got fire bombed. "BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALL! BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALL!" She screams at the top of her lungs before erupting into a fit of short spasming sobs. Her little hands fly to her eyes, tears pour down her face like rain, her whole body trembles in agony. "Sweetheart, it is OK!" I reach for her with one hand and hold the steering wheel with the other. I think about about how smart it is to multi-task while going 65 miles per hour. I feel her grip one of my fingers desperately and her strength is incredible. This is when my two year old joins the discussion. "Noelle, it is not a time for making noises! Noelle no! No! AHHHHHHHHH!" My two year old has absorbed the energy in the car and is now screaming along with her sister as she holds her ears and attempts to crawl into a ball in her car seat. Of course Noelle takes one look at her sister and doubles up on sobs. The noise level in the car is deafening and I wonder if I would hear a police siren if there was one sounding right behind me. I begin to shrink into my happy place in order to protect my mind from trauma. Both of my hands go back on the steering wheel and it takes all my focus to calmly state to my off spring "We are almost home." Then I floor it.
After pulling into the driveway, I race around the car to Noelle's door. I open it, quickly unstrap her from her seat, grab her beloved fallen object and pull her to me in a hug. She is immediately fine, even more than fine. She is all smiles and kisses even. 13 month Old Land is restored to its happy existence. A switch has been flipped and the world is a merry place once again. I sigh and hug my little one. I wonder what 14 months is going to look like.
