Noah is two, and he’s not terrible at all. Playing with him tonight inspired me to write this post. I LOVE this age. At two, children can communicate with you, and they have developed little personalities that I can only marvel at. I suppose I’m fortunate that Noah has such a sunny attitude. He’s always happy, hardly ever cranky. Tantrums are rare, and often faked. I’m easily amused when he throws himself in the floor and squeaks out a fake cry or two until he realizes it’s not getting him any attention. I know not all parents are so lucky. My mother tells me it’s because we’re doing something right, but we are just muddling through parenthood, the same as most people.

I also love seeing the displays of independent thinking at this age. I have a very favorite story about Maia at two, related to the emergence of her analytical thinking. It was the first time I ever had a conversation with her where I felt like I could actually see the wheels spinning in her brain as she tried to figure out how to pull one over on me. Instead of crying when I said no, she was really analyzing the situation and changing her strategy accordingly. It made such an impression on me that I still remember the conversation almost verbatim. She was trying to convince me to let her wear a favorite t-shirt to school, and the conversation went something like this:

Maia: I wear this.

Me: No, you can’t wear that, you slept in it.

(We go back and forth on this a few times before she decides to try a different approach.)

Maia: Daddy said I wear this.

Me: Oh, he did, did he?

Maia: Yeah.

Me: I don’t think Daddy said you could wear that after you slept in it.

(Now she changes her tactic again.)

Maia: I put it in my cubby hole.

(They have cubbies at school for extra clothes, clean underwear, etc. Now it doesn’t matter if she wears it or not as long as she gets it to school. Probably planning to get her teacher to let her wear it as soon as I’m gone. Smart, but no dice.)

Me: No, you’ve slept in it every night for a week, it’s dirty.

Maia: I clean it.

(She then proceeds to wet her finger on her tongue and rub it all over her shirt to “clean” it the same way I do to wipe smudges off her face — the famous Mommy spit bath. By this time I’m laughing hysterically. I can’t help it, I can see she’s trying really hard to convince me to let her take this shirt to school.)

Maia: It’s clean now, Mommy.

Me: No it isn’t, you need to put it in your hamper with your other dirty clothes.

(Then, a last ditch effort.)

Maia: Daddy said I put it in my cubby hole.

(I don’t really like this Daddy thing, it’s the first time she’s tried to pit one against the other, but I let it slide because I’m thankful she’s not crying or having a temper tantrum. I finally convince her to leave the shirt at home and she can sleep in it again that night. All is well.)

So there you have it, a true account of Maia’s creative thinking skills at the age of two. She was one smart cookie but at least in this case, Mommy stayed just a little smarter.