A Mommy Story

We have entered a new phase in Cordy’s development: the “no” phase.

She has known of the word no for quite some time now. Surprisingly, it wasn’t one of the first words she picked up, but the meaning was always clear to her. When she was just a year old, a stern “no” from me when she was getting into something she shouldn’t would lead to a moment of surprise, then the puckered up face, and then tears and disheartening cries. It was as if that simple word had caused grave injury to her soul, and for the next five minutes, nothing was right with the world.

Once she learned to say no, she was so gentle in saying it that I thought she clearly didn’t understand its power. If offered something she did not want, she would give a polite “nooooo”, the tone of which carried the message (in a proper British accent, of course): “Oh mother, tisk, tisk…were you unaware that I am currently not interested in that piece of food? How silly, mother!”

During the past few weeks, however, she seems to have learned the true force behind the word. Now, offering her something she doesn’t want is met with a loud, rude “NO!” as if she is completely insulted and disgusted that we would think to offer that thing to her.

However, the power of the word has now gone to her head, and it has become the knee-jerk response to anything asked or offered to her. She says no without thinking it through, when often she means yes. It’s almost funny to ask her, “Cordy, would you like some milk?” and have her answer “No!” as she takes the sippy cup from your hands and guzzles the contents.

She may soon regret always saying no, when someone who doesn’t understand her “no means yes” philosophy denies her a toy or treat due to her insistence that she didn’t want it. Of course, that would require her to actually look at someone other than Aaron or I.

Yes, Cordy has picked up another new toddler habit: she now closes her eyes when strangers, or sometimes even people she knows, try to talk to her. If she doesn’t want to interact, she pinches those eyelids shut and holds them tightly closed, still facing the person attempting to make contact. The message is clear: I don’t want to deal with you. If I close my eyes, then you don’t exist.

Most people are generally good-natured about this, thank goodness. And I have to laugh every time she does it, because if you were to look back through my childhood photo album, there are several pictures of me with my eyes closed. No, it wasn’t an accident – if I didn’t want to have my picture taken, I simply shut my eyes and smiled. That was when I was 5, however; Cordy seems to be a fast learner with her genetic personality traits.

Cordy has also learned to use this trick when being punished. If we tell her no, she’ll often close her eyes to us, shutting us out of her little world. After we’re quiet for a moment, she’ll open her eyes and go right back to what she was doing.

It’s fun to see her growing and learning new ways to deal with the world around her, although sometimes her methods of coping are getting a little frustrating for us. I can only hope these are short-lived stages, and soon Cordy will progress on to bigger and better ways to ignore and dismiss us.