This crutch looks like it wants to kick me
My son has been employing an interesting new linguistic crutch lately. He’s in that development stage where kids discover that they can be part of conversation if they participate in the natural back and forth of discussion. The problem is that sometimes he starts to talk before he knows what he wants to say.
“Mommy?” He’ll say, getting my attention. Then nothing, until he feels the need to fill the silence to keep the attention. “I love you but…”
This phrase chafes.
It implies that there is going to be a low blow dealt to my parenting psyce. But it doesn’t come. He says, “I love you but…can I wear jammies with feet tonight?” or “I love you but…are we going to park?” It’s just a verbal filler to him. But it’s a crutch I picture with a big steel-toed boot on the end that’s poised to kick me in the ass.
My daughter, during the same period of verbal development, would say “can I join your conversation?” A much kinder, gentler introduction into the banter of life, no?
But she hasn’t always been the sweet lollipop of empathy she is now. “I love you but…” gets under my skin because she used to say it to me. Usually when I was at my most harried. “I love you but…I love Daddy more.” And she meant it. I am proud of myself that I didn’t throw a four letter word at her. And I mean that.
It wasn’t really surprising, though. The two of them have had an amazing relationship from the start. He was the one who could calm her down best during her colicky episodes. And when real estate kept me out working nights and weekends, they created a bond that I could not duplicate with her.
I’m okay with it now. Time has healed that wound and she and I have our own special (and completely different) relationship. Plus I read The Wonder of Girls and it drove home the importance of a good relationship between fathers and daughters.
So my son can say it all he wants: I love you but…at school I played with Reed yesterday. But…when are we going to California? But…I had a dream that I was. A. Lion!
This morning he said it again. “I love you but… I just love you.”
And of course it made me smile, because their two variations of the phrase sum them up. One honest and open. The other simple and understated. Except when it comes to dancing naked around the house. Then they’re both freakshows.