Mama, you don’t think very well. You need to think better.

“Excuse me. What was that about?” flashed silently in my head when Spud, our 4-year-old daughter commented while gesturing her index finger to her temple as she said it when I was setting up breakfast before we head out.

I was quite taken aback and I had 5 seconds of insidiously reactive thought of response.  I swear that if the remark was made by my colleagues without any good reason, I think I would respond with a bitch-slap back-hand swat!

I mean, after a few intense weeks on Blogging 101 and mostly being behind assignments, plus all the other crap I have to do in between and not getting enough sleep…what do YOU mean I don’t think very well!

Boy! That stung.   It was a stinger which I hadn’t expected and I honestly don’t know where she got that from-  it’s not like we have ever told her to think better under ANY circumstances! First thing in the morning too (!), when my brains haven’t quite woken up.

But for a 4-year-old still trying to articulate herself, she’s allowed some slack.  So in a quick 5 seconds, I recovered myself and calmly asked her what she had meant by that. I told her to repeat herself so I could understand. Spud then went,

You just need to think better, Mama. You always forget which cup is mine and which cup is Squirt’s.

She said it with so much empathy and gentleness.

Ahh! I get it now.  It’s because I always forget which one is whose – and that’s because when it comes to the colour of their cups, they both keep swapping with each other like there’s no tomorrow. I suppose I have lost track of which belongs to whom now, and that they somehow have agreed between the both of them to stick to one colour now.

I told her I’m sorry I always forget and agreed that I should have remembered. She gave me a smile, satisfied with my reply and continued on with her breakfast.

Blue…light blue..orange. In my head, who has the time for that! After all, they both function the same don’t they: both are plastic cups,  both contain milk and both can be drunk from. In my head, why do I care.

But to the kids…to the kids, oh boy! Colours matter and on some days, it could be some real shit-crazy battle that goes into full-blown temper tantrums and crying fit.

 

 

I have the same thing with their toothbrushes, always forgetting which one belongs to whom –  much to the disdain of the kids.  I have to ask them every time to identify what’s theirs; only because unlike cups, I don’t encourage the swapping of toothbrush.

I guess from that perspective of always forgetting things, Spud’s absolutely right. I just need to “think better”.

For a 4-year-old, it’s a matter of learning to coherently (and respectfully) articulate her thoughts better to make herself be understood. For me, it’s being conscious of not jumping the gun.

Oh the joy of having a 4-year-old with a glib tongue.