Like so many amazing childhood events, this one arose from the most mundane of circumstances. Dubsie played in the bathroom while Mummy and I were organizing toiletries. Dubsie started rooting through a box on the floor that contained toothbrushes (known in Spanish as cepillos), toothpaste, various shampoo bottles, and her Ergo (a type of baby carrier).
Not wanting to see our toothbrushes turned into floor scrubbers, nor our shampoo used as finger paint, I grabbed the box and put it out of her reach on a ledge in the shower.
Dubsie whimpered the way she does when we have committed an injustice. She turned toward her mother and, with tears in her voice, lodged the following compliant.
“Da-a-a-a-ady took za box and a wahna and zzz ergo is innere an i pick it up and i just wahna cepillo and plaaaay gah nah brusha teeth and waaaaaaaaaaaa na play in it an d-dad go an I wahna play za lil piece and just cuz go weeee an my ergo is innere nah nice an shower on na floor and d-dad take it awaaaaaaay.”
Hear my rendition of her manifesto:
Mummy and I looked at her with open mouths. That was four or five times more words than we had ever heard her say at once. We turned toward each other and burst out laughing. It wasn’t just a sentence — it was a whole diatribe, and I was proud of my daughter for articulating herself so passionately, for lodging a protest with tears in her eyes and while wearing a set of elephant onesie pajamas.
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