I’ve found lately that Juno doesn’t follow direction with the same … enthusiasm … as her older brother.
A good part of that can be chalked up to personality but it dawned on me that it might also be because we tend to use a lot more language than is appropriate or necessary, eg:
Juno, if you leave the flowers on the tomato plant, they’ll eventually grow into tomatoes. But if you pick them while they’re still flowers then they won’t have the chance to turn into tomatoes, which would be sad.
I’m not in any way advocating the use of baby talk, or toddler talk, or “dumbing down” your natural spoken language — Seve knows that the seat belt clip needs to fasten over his sternum, because that’s the word we use — but there’s something to be said for determining the key message and sticking to that, eg:
Juno, no picking flowers without asking first. If you want to pick a flower, you have to ask first.
This latter approach is more successful, but you know, she’s two. It’s not perfect. Which brings us to this quote, which has been making the rounds online lately, attributed to various sources but lovely whatever the origin:
When a child gives you a gift, even if it is a rock they just picked up, exude gratitude. It might be the only thing they have to give, and they have chosen to give it to you.
And that’s where I’m at with Juno and her fists full of foliage these days. Our garden doesn’t need more tomatoes, but more gifts, more sharing — can’t get enough of those.
I finally drank the Koolaid / bit the bullet / canned the spam and followed WordPress’ advice to start up a Joy and Woe Facebook page. I’m there, you’re there … we should, like, hang out or something.