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Three Little Words

Three little words.  When my two-year-old Grand shouts them, I punch my patience button.  Another three little words.  When my two-year-old Grand shouts them, I celebrate.

Ruth ran to the kid shoe basket that sits beside her family’s kitchen door.  Her mother had just announced, “Let’s go outside.  Everyone get shoes and jackets on.”  Ruth threw shoes onto the floor.  “Get your brown Crocs.  You can slip them on yourself,” said Mother.

“New pink shoes!”  Ruth said.  New pink shoes with Velcro straps across the top.

“Then you might need someone to help you,” Mother said as she took lightweight jackets off the coat rack.  My Grand’s older brother and sister quickly put on their slip-on shoes and their jackets and ran outside.  She sat in the floor holding her new pink shoes.

“Here, Ruth, let me help,” I offered.  I pulled a kitchen table chair close to her and sat down.

My do it!”  she said.   Three little words.  I punched my patience button.  Her mother raised her eyebrows, nodded to me, and went outside, carrying Ruth’s jacket.  My Grand shoved her toes on her right foot into the left shoe.

“That shoe goes on your other foot,” I said.  She jerked the shoe off with such force that it flew over her head.

“My get it!”  With a shoe in each hand, she sat on the floor and placed her shoes directly in front of her feet.  “Like that?”  I agreed, like that.  One top strap on each shoe was loose.  Two other straps were fastened securely.

Ruth tried to shove her feet into her shoes.  Her brow wrinkled.  “If we loosen all the straps, it’ll be easier, “ I suggested.  If Ruth heard me, she ignored me.  I sat on my hands so I couldn’t pick up both shoes, loosen the Velcro straps, slip the shoes onto my Grand’s feet, and fasten the straps.  Her brother, sister, and mother were outside in the sunshine.

Ruth pushed and rocked her feet until she finally had both shoes on.  She stood, looked down, and wiggled her toes.  “This right?” she asked.  Yes, her shoes were on the right feet.  She bent over, from the waist, and fastened the loose Velcro straps.  She stood straight.  Hands open and stretched high over her head.  Feet apart.  Eyes twinkling.  “I DID IT!”  she shouted.  Another three little words.  Time to celebrate!  I lifted her onto my lap for a two-arm hug.

“Outside!”  Ruth ran straight to her mother.  “I DID IT!”  She looked at her feet.

Mother clapped her hands and hugged her daughter.  “Now, let’s put your jacket on.”  Mother held the jacket for Ruth to slip her arms into.

“My do it!”  Ruth said.  I watched as her mother laid the jacket on the ground and reminded her daughter to lie on top of it, slip her arms in the sleeves, and then stand up.  I reset my patience button.  I didn’t want to miss the next celebration.

My do it!  I DID IT!  My two-year old Grand shouts three little words.


One Response

  1. I love how you push your patience button!! Thanks for sharing that wonderful idea for a mother of an ADHD child like me. I’ll start using mine after he gets over the flu. And I’ll be sure to let you know when “I did it!”. 🙂


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