A funny thing happened when Robbie stopped going to Chinese daycare; he learned to speak English. Sure, he knew how to speak English before, but it was more small phrases and sentence fragments. He had general ideas of what he wanted to say, but there was no real conversation. Within the past week, all of that has changed.
It started slowly, with Robbie saying, “Mom, are we talking?” It was almost like he wanted to make sure that he had the right words. Lately, it’s evolved from that to, “Mom, are we talking? Is this a conversation?” and again to, “Mom, let’s have a conversation, please.”
And so we do. We talk about Magic Kingdom (his favorite conversation), bad dreams (he’s been shot at by Captain Hook and bitten by the alligator on two different nights and showed me the bullet holes and bite marks on his mattress – intense stuff!), school (although I was a little alarmed when he told me he got married at pre-school yesterday…), and our house (he keeps asking if we are going to move into the old new house or get a new new house).
I love more than anything that Robbie wants me to have conversations with him. There is nothing better in the world than being Robbie’s favorite person. I’m trying to relish every conversation, no matter how many times we have it. After all, chances are good he’s not going to share every detail of his life with me forever.