While we are on the subject of being spoiled and somewhere in that same universe, is the idea of excess. Last night, I got a little confirmation that we may be headed down that road. Or, at a philosophical minimum, I'm convinced that my child loves cake. I don't typically quote 50-Cent in a blog, but there simply were not more appropriate words to call this story.
Yesterday was Pop's birthday and we had lots of fun in store for him, including a trip to the new waterfront restaurant an hour away and a delicious homemade (not in my home) red velvet cake (which, I learned last night over cake, he likes but is not his favorite despite my convincing myself it was). In any event, all of these festivities on a Thursday and a monthly dog grooming appointment had me home a little early with my arms full. Prioritizing those things which could and could not stay in the car by themselves, I quickly deposited Pumpkin at my side in the front yard, one eye on her; let the dog out to run in the yard, other eye on him; and ran to unlock the door before the cake melted. I unmanned the alarm and put Pumpkin and dog on the other side of the glass door, and with only one eye on both of them now, ran to get the cake. As I emerged back up the porch steps, Pumpkin's little face lit up. At first my heart swelled with the unconditional and reciprocal love between mother and child. I was inspired immediately for a deep and heartfelt blog Then, I opened the door with my one free hand and was quickly deflated by her clear-ish pronunciation of the word "cake" (read: "kek").
That alone should have told me everything I needed to know. She said the word "cake." She actually said the word, clear as day, while pointing at the cake. Pumpkin doesn't say many words. I honestly believe she understands about 90% of the English language but she doesn't actually SAY that many words. You can even ask her if she can say [insert word here] and she'll nod, like, "of course I can say that," but then when you ask her to say it, she'll shake her head and laugh as if to say, "no, you fool." So, she understands, she just won't say. And it's not that she has an age-inappropriate vocabulary - from what I can tell she is right on track, that track just involves about a dozen words. The words she can say are those typical things that a 17-month old needs to say, "mama," "dada," "cup," "dog," and "bye-bye." She can and will occasionally say "pop" and she has combined her grandmothers into a "nonny" (Nona + Ganny) but that's where she draws the line. A brief inventory of that vocab and it's clear she only speaks those things which she loves and needs. And then she said "cake."
I set the cake on the table and explained to her we had to wait for Pop. After literally trying to climb the kitchen chairs, I distracted her with some grapes and cheese slices. I didn't hear anything else about that "kek" for a couple hours. We made it to the Regatta, explored the lakefront boardwalk, and ate delicious food. As the adults were wrapping up the last few bites, my mom offered me a bite of her crabcake. Suddenly, Pumpkin was at my knee with her little birdie mouth open and waiting. She does tend to be an adventerous eater, so I pinched her off a bite of crabcake and inserted it into her waiting mouth. She started to chew and the gleam of expectation in her eye slowly changed over to confusion and then disgust. She spit the crab out into my waiting hand and mumbled something that sounded like "kek." Lightbulbs went off over every head around the table. Pum-pum heard someone offer me crab-KEK and wanted a bite.
The first few minutes in the car after that was a string of "kek," "kek," "keks," which even included a "kek pop," indicating she remembered we had to wait for Pop to have cake. The "keks" got increasingly more frustrated and were even sprinkled with a few angry "mamas," as though somehow her lack of "kek" was all my fault. Hubby finally had to put a halt to us "using the C-word."
So the moral of this story is either that I have raised a child who is lavished in excess (see the two paci trick photo) and may be unable to relate within the limitations of the real world or, alternatively, I have raised a child that loves cake (and her pacis). I'm going to go with the latter. And don't worry, Pumpkin got her cake, complete with a Happy Birthday song to Pop, a glass of milk, and a waiting paci - just a few of her favorite things!
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