My wife and I were on our porch the other night speculating about the many reasons why our 2 y/o was acting like such a child. I generally blame teething and will continue to do so in to his teens. As if on cue, we hear the piercing scream of our youngest child. It was not the “I’m trying to get your attention” cry, it was a full on “My life in danger parents, assist me!”
We rushed to his room to find a hysterical mess. He sobbed as we asked repeatedly, “What is wrong?” We encouraged him to use his words, but then he began to wretch. We have rushed our children to the bathroom enough times to look like a well-oiled machine. We made it to the toilet puke-free and began the parent list of diseases we have recently seen on the news. It appeared as if nothing was wrong, but the extreme need with which he wailed sent my parenting radar off the grid.
He stood up. He sat down. He pulled out half a roll of toilet paper.
I said, “I want to help! Use your words, I can’t help if you don’t use your words!”
Through a desperate heave my youngest says, “Words.”
“Yes, words! Words. What is wrong?”
With a pitiful gasp he said, “hipab.”
“What are you…”
“Phase” doesn’t do justice for the boy who cried iPad. Then again “love” isn’t quite big enough either.