I'm New Here

This morning after I dropped off Urban at daycare I was able to switch from KidzBop to The Current for the 3 minutes it takes to complete my drive to work.  In that 3 minutes I heard the tail end of the weather forecast and most of Bjork's new song, Crystalline.

As I listened, I tried to understand the lyrics – "Octagon, polygon; Pipes up an organ; Sonic branches;
Murmuring drone."  Now, I don't know about you, but I love lyrics.  In fact, I am a huge fan of 90's hip hop and rap mostly because of the lyrics.  I love the stories inside all the posturing.  (digression, sorry) However, if you have ever tried to listen to the lyrics of a Bjork song, you likely know they can be a bit hard to follow.  Beautiful in that perfectly odd, quirky Bjork way, but difficult.  As I listened, I started to think about Beringer.  – OK, this might seem a little weird to be reminded of my 17 mo-old while listening to Bjork, but bear with me.

This weekend Brett and I had a somewhat long conversation about Beringer, all centering around his frustration.  Beringer is frustrated.  Very frustrated.  He point and grunts and pleads with his eyes.  Then, when you inevitably don't get it; he flops into a howling cry, backs himself into the nearest corner and pouts.  Honestly, it's hilariously adorable, but really annoying – and frustrating!

Brett asked me if I thought this would get batter when he can talk more.  I said yes, then related this story to him:

Beringer loves books, and the other night after I got him ready for bed, I let him pick out a book to read. He has a new-found obsession with Dora.  (This is a little odd, because I don't think he's ever seen the show, but we have leftover stuff from Urban's Dora run.)  Anyway, he picked out a big book that originally had a little Dora iPod thingy that played a lot of her best-loved tunes.

The book just has pictures of Dora and then all the songs' lyrics printed out.  Needless to say, it's not exactly a cohesive bedtime story.  Beringer sat and paged through the book, giving me the opportunity to read maybe one set of lyrics before he would turn the page.  When he got to the last spread he stopped.  He stared.  He smiled and said, "BALL!"  and pointed to a bunch of balloons.  I said, "Yes!  Balloon!"  He kept looking at the picture and tracing the lines with his fingers, so I said, "Can you find the Mommy in this picture?"  He pointed at Dora's Mama.  I said, "Can you find the Daddy in this picture?"  He pointed at Dora's Papi.  This continued with him identifying Gramma, monkey, flower, star, banana, shoes, things that were blue, green, purple and red and some clouds.

I just looked at him.  He looked up into my face and grinned his big cheesy grin.

"You totally get it don't you?"

He just looked at me and said, "Mama."  And laid his head on my chest.  I felt like such a dolt as I suddenly remembered watching him follow complex instructions like: "Go pick up that napkin, wipe your face and throw it in the garbage." without a second thought.  He's not even a year and a half yet, and I expect him perform like Urban.  And, what's more, he lives up to it.  This poor little guy is understanding so much!  He listens and comprehends, but can't get us to understand anything he's trying to tell us.  How extremely frustrating!  I think, in that situation, I would back into a corner and pout too.

Which leads me back to Bjork.  Beringer, like Bjork, has beautiful things to say, but I just can't get to the meaning, so I smile and praise him and then move on to something I can understand.  How unfair.  I guess I can at least say that it won't last forever.  He'll talk soon.  And when I can finally understand him, I can't wait to hear what he has to say.  I'm sure it will be amazing.  And I guess the Bjork thing will just work itself out.