One Track Mind


Deirdre also likes sitting on the potty, but she just doesn’t “get” it. It’s like “Sitting on the Potty is so much fun!!” but she has no clue that there might actually be a REASON for sitting on it. She likes picking out her clothes. She has very, very, very insistent one word sentences, which Mom says feels like Chinese water torture. Mostly it makes me laugh. The other day I was making bread. . .she wanted a piece of dough to chew on (which is totally gross to watch) so I said no. She said dough, I said no. She said dough, and I ignored her. “Dough, dough, dough” says Deirdre. I ignore her. “Doughdoughdoughdough!” Says Deirdre. So I retaliated.

“Kiss!”

“Dough!”

“Kiss!”

“DOOUGGHHH!”

“KIISSSSS!”

“Dooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh–”

“Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiissssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss—” But then I started laughing, and she didn’t, she kept right on “dough”-ing, so I gues she won that contest. (But she still didn’t get any dough.) Let’s just say that one track mind doesn’t even begin to describe Deirdre!


2 responses to “One Track Mind”

  1. Titi,

    In my experience with large families, including my own, it has been a common experience to hear complaints from the younger children (usually directed with a somewhat contemptuous eye toward the older children) about a “birth-order-dependent” baby picture discrepancy. It is a valid complaint, given that I have two huge and complete photo albums documenting birth to about two years. That is in comparison to Caleb’s handful, with which one might possibly hope to fill three or four pages of a photo album. There is some justification on the part of Mom and Dad for this seemingly unfair event. One common argument is “If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.” This fits well for the dozen of you, at least given how well I did matching the names to the baby pictures on your refrigerator.

    But, as I read your accounts of Deirdre’s curious desires (eating tomatoes, drinking vinegar, sucking dough, sitting proudly on the toilet and gawking at “babies” in the store), I am beginning to feel like there is an important part of my childhood chronology missing. I have two stuffed photo albums, but I can only guess what I was doing in those pictures. Where was the historian of my toddler-hood?

    Going against common wisdom, I must decide that a picture is not worth a thousand words.

  2. Truth be told, the main reason I started writing these stories WAS because I had also noticed that a picture was worth less than a thousand words. But, unlike your family, none of us kids have photo albums full of our baby pictures! (I think the baby we have the most photo’s of is actually Deirdre–the youngest. The reason for that is not emotional, as some might think. We just happened to get a digital camera about 6 months before she was born!) We do have some photos, of course, and like you said–smiling faces don’t tell you very much about what we were like. The things that have always stuck in my mind the most were the stories people remembered, and to my horror I can’t remember very many baby stories about ANY of my brothers and sisters!! I do remember some–for instance, when Caleb was the age Deirdre is right now, he liked to walk on the ceilings. This requires (a) being taller than me, and (b) flipping him upside down and putting his feet on the ceiling. But we don’t have any pictures of that, either. So more for selfish reasons than anything else, I decided I had to start writing down Deirdre’s exploits before I lost them forever.