My son. Oh, my beautiful son, whom I love with every fiber of my being….has begun a new little habit that is driving me up the ever-lovin’ walls lately. Correction: it is not a new habit, per se, but one that is much more noticeable now that his vocabulary is growing and his ability to express his needs and wants is making huge strides.
This little nugget repeats himself ALL DAY LONG.
The reason that it is probably more noticeable now is that, with all of his new and useful vocabulary, why is it that he still is harping on these same phrases endlessly? And by endlessly, I do mean end-freakin’-less-ly. With a capital E. As in make-you-want-to-cover-your-ears-and-hide-under-the-bed endlessly. Let me give give you an idea of what this torture tactic sounds like:
Jp: Dadda? Dadda? Dadda? Dadda? (PS-There is no reason for him to be asking since Dadda is literally in the room with us) Dadda?
Me: He’s right there, buddy. *Points*
Jp: Iphone? Iphone? Iphone? (Let me interject here that I have to answer the question -no matter how inane- or he will not stop asking and eventually will get one inch from my face to make sure that I hear him correctly)
Me: It is right here. Do you want it?
Jp: No. Night-night?
Me: Do you want to go to bed?
Jp: No. Puppy?
Me: He’s right over there.
Jp: Star Wars? Star Wars?
Me: It’s on in the kitchen right now.
Jp: Ya-ya? (Grandmother)
Me: She’s not here right now.
Jp: Home soon!
Me: Right, buddy, that’s very smart.
Jp: Dadda? Dadda? Dadda? (Loop begins all over again)
*Brain explodes and melts out of ears and I openly weep on the inside*
This can go on forever. No matter how many times I answer those same one word questions, he never tires of asking them, over and over (and over and over) again. He is even memorizing my responses to them (I.E. “Home Soon”) and yet, there we go, round and round verbally until I am dizzy and my head wants to pop off.
Last night at bedtime, he said the word “Dadda” -or more accurately, yelled it- for 30 solid minutes before he finally passed out from sheer exhaustion. I came right downstairs afterward and pounded a glass of Moscato like it was my job. I mean, I have written on multiple occasions that I am a patient mom and I am, truly, but this repetitive business is downright insanity.
(Literally right as I type this he just walked in and said “Dadda?”. I cannot make this up, folks)
I know it is just Jp’s way of being Jp and, like all of his silly idiosyncrasies, in a week or so it will become like second nature to me but right now I am venting. Here I am, blogesphere, crazy pants tired of hearing the sound of my own voice saying the same scripted phrases 999 times a day. Is that not one of the sheer joys of having a blog? Getting to dump all of my stuff on you lovely people?
Just one freakin’ time, can Repeat fall out of the boat, so Pete can be left? I am all out of Moscato and Ibuprofen. 😉
I'm just living minute to minute, hour to hour, day to day.