Miss Manners

The most beautiful sound in the English language?

The syllable sure, spoken by a two year old.

As in,

"Can you throw this in the laundry basket, please?"

"Sure!"

"No, no more mommy milk now. Would you like some refrigerator milk?"

Pause to consider. "Sure."

"Would you like to help me with the sweeping first, and then we can play?"

"Sure, Mommy, I can do that."

The impact of that little word on the adult is--in an instant--surprise, relief, and joy, as the sun seemingly shines brighter. I can feel my spine rebounding and minutes being added to my life as the load of the day's endless negotiations is unexpectedly lifted for a second.

Similarly delightful: We don't know what clicked or why, but in the last few days Edith has been full of unprompted, generous expressions of manners.

As in,

"Would you like some crackers?"

"No, thank you."

Or I bring her a sippy cup in bed.

"Thank you, Mommy. I love you."

Or I am running down the grocery list with Tom, and I ask Edith if she would like to add anything.

"Colby-Jack cheese, please. I love Colby-Jack cheese."

I say that I already have Colby-Jack cheese on the list, because I know how much she likes it.

"Thank you, Mommy. That was so nice of you to put Colby-Jack cheese on the list for me."

And when I get home from the store, it's not "I want cheese!" but "Did you find any Colby-Jack cheese, Mommy?"

There's more such growing thoughtfulness. She asked to be carried this morning, and I explained that I couldn't carry her because my knee was hurting. Once upon a time she would not have been able to hear such a response and would have pitched a fit. Instead she turned to Tom.

"Daddy, is your knee hurting? Can you carry me?" and then, "Mommy, when we get out of the car I will kiss your knee." Which she did.

I don't want to leave you with the impression that we have hit the Age of Perfect Reason and Empathy. Edith can whine with the best of them, and any small frustration with a physical object still sends her over the edge. But we're beginning to see the rough outlines of a civilized human being breaking through. Sometimes she'll make a stab at better communication even in the midst of a whine: "No, Mommy! I'm whining because I don't like Bismarck's barking! THAT'S why I'm whining!"

And the even-keeled expressions of agreement and thoughtfulness are breathtaking. Amazing how "no, thank you" cuts straight through a morning of knocking heads. You remember the big world out there in which people regularly respond to each other in a rational way. Really, it takes so little to send the preschool parent's spirits through the roof.