On August 16th 2011, Pudding asked me a why question. She was wearing a Hello Kitty top, blue leggings, and Disney Princess socks. I was drinking tea, attempting to warm up after a cool day in Johannesburg proved it really is winter here after all.
As she bounced into the room and her fingers explored every surface, they found the switch of the lamp. She flicked it on and off, as she has done every day since we arrived, but this time it didn't turn on, and for the first time ever she asked me why.
Just like that. So naturally and spontaneously that a stranger observing might take it for granted. But not me. Every detail is forever etched into my memory. The pounding of my heart and the giddy, elated feeling.
I can't tell you the day she first smiled, sat by herself, spoke her first word, stood alone, or even took her first steps. I have the memories, but they are pinned down to weeks, not days. Though I've been asked countless times on countless forms documenting her development, I give vague answers. 4 weeks, 5 months, 10 months, 12 months.
Those answers satisfy the professionals, looking to pinpoint when her development went awry. But they don't satisfy me.
I have replayed those milestones over and over for the last two years, but I can't get more specific. The truth is that I didn't accord them the attention they deserved. I was the stranger observing who took them for granted.
Moments after she asked and I even managed to answer her question, I shared this milestone on Facebook. A friend commented that this would herald an exciting new phase of development- the why question being a "gateway milestone".
I had to applaud her choice of words. No longer the stranger taking milestones for granted, I am now a developmental junkie. I'm addicted to observing the miracle of development, not just in my own children, but in every child I encounter. I can't get enough, even when I have to be patient with a small stash. I knew that it was a year ago (and four days) since I'd written that Pudding doesn't ask why. I knew, because I've been waiting for this fix ever since.
When I first held Pudding and Cubby, I remember the sudden burst of love I felt for them. Already I was taking for granted so many things: their health, their strength, even their just begun lives. Never again, for either child. I take nothing for granted, appreciating just how fortunate we are.
Likewise with development. Whether milestones are hit strongly and surely (if a little tardily) in Cubby's case, or later and sporadically as with Pudding, I marvel at them, and the high that they bring.
At times I think of that stranger who soberly observed the milestones in her children. She never knew the intoxicating feeling that rushes through this addict as I witness the many miraculous milestones of everyday life.
After a few hours of riding this high came the inevitable comedown. Was this just appropriate echolalia? And just how long will it be until I hear the next why? I tried to shake my way out of withdrawal by focusing on how huge that milestone was.
Then yesterday at 8.47 am still wearing her nightgown she brought something to me. It was my GPS that I'd removed from the car for my husband to look at. Driving around unfamiliar streets in a new country, I'd been unnerved as it kept dropping the signal, or turning itself off inexplicably.
"Mummy, why is it not working? Is it broken, Mummy?"
Not broken, it just works in it's own way, on it's own time. I'm just going to have to be patient about it. But you, my sweet, you are the fix.
Spectrummy Mummy is finding that Africa suits us best of the three continents our kids have lived on so far. You can read more about the global adventures of Pudding and Cubby at my blog, Facebook or Twitter.