C’s been in her crib for a half hour. She hasn’t uttered a word since I put her down for the night, but this wail is not all that surprising. There are few nights were some protest isn’t registered before she settles in for the long haul.
“What’s wrong sweetie?” I call as I walk towards her room.
She’s standing in her crib, crying.
“Oh baby, what’s wrong? Why are you so upset?” I croon.
“Mine eah!” She says, pointing to her ear.
“Do you have an owie in your ear?”
“Mine eah eeeeetchy. Wight heah.” She says pointing to the back of her ear.
“I’m sorry sweetie“, I say, pulling her close to me and rubbing the itchy spot. She snuggles in and we stand like that for a minute. I lay her back down and she curls up with her stuffed dog. It’s such a relief to be able to know exactly what’s bothering her. It’s taken us two years to get to this point. I think back on all the evenings when she cried and I had to guess at what was bothering her. I’m so glad that she can now use her words to tell us what’s wrong.
“M?” I ask as I head back into the living room.
“It’s going to suck having to go back to dealing with a child who can’t tell us what’s bugging her, isn’t it?”
“Yup. It sure is.”