No.

“No.” That word is my new thing It sort of just rolls off the tongue smooth and heavy like a marble. Sometimes, I can even dress it up in case I’m feeling bored with my selection of words I can use to blatantly refuse a task. I’ve used unique variations like “nope” and “nope thank you.” I’m two, so it’s still sort of cute.

I have a very distinct dimple on my left cheek so when I smile really big after vehemently denying whatever parental request has bounced into my court, I can sometimes dodge a time out. I’d say to date, my odds are around 4:1.

There was a period of time where my parents were on the cusp of being concerned about my lack of speech. I say “on the cusp” except there was no cusp. My mom was not tiptoeing around being worried. She wasn’t on the “edge” of being worried. She had jumped fearlessly right into the hot, bubbly worry and was swimming around frantically, pulling my dad in, too. If I could have spoken, I would’ve said “Chill, mom.” I was rounding the corner on my second birthday and my words were still limited to mama, dada and a long string of sounds where I raised and lowered the pitch with no spaces in between.  

Thankfully, I had a Ms. Tanya who demanded I make sounds, sensible sounds. If I really wanted something, I had to tell her what I wanted, using WORDS. Words that weren’t spoken in cursive. Words that I had to make using my tongue and the roof of my mouth and some strange combinations of the two. I spent many months stubbornly arm crossing and mean mugging. I threw my head back in anger. I threw tantrums and also, on some days I threw hard, plastic objects.

The words came. They weren’t flowing out of me like the poetic verses they are now. But they came. It started with “purple” and then “orange.” It blossomed into “Yes” “No” and then “Yes, please” and a very distinct “No ma’am.”

And then, one morning while we watched Saturday morning cartoons, I walked up to my mom while she snuck in a catnap on the couch. I inched as close to her as I could. I could feel her coffee breath on my face. I blinked my large eyes rapidly. This was going to be great. *Blink *Blink *Blink. I reached backwards and patted my diapered butt and then I said my first whole sentence “Mama, I poop pants.” I think my odor reached her with the same ferocity as the sound of my full sentence because she leapt several feet off of the couch in equal parts excitement and nausea.  

I know I shouldn’t tell my mom and dad “No.” I know I also shouldn’t say “Nope. Nope thank you. No ma’am. No sir” Just like THEY know I shouldn’t. I should probably shake my head yes and comply, like an obedient 2-year-old. But my parents are giving me an inch right now. I know they so enjoy hearing the sound of my sweet voice that’s making words they understand. I say I ride on their wave of gratefulness for as long as this thing will hold me.