Beech Tree News Network

Do you know Ipsey the spider, Keeko the star, and the quadruplets Murray?  Of course you do.  Ipsey goes up the water spout, Keeko shines like a diamond in the sky, and Murray, Murray, Murray and Murray row gently down the stream.
    My husband, Garey, sometimes fusses at me for not correcting my granddaughter, Sabria’s, mispronunciations.  He is always reporting back to me on what kids X, Y and Z are saying and how well they are saying it.  He says we should be working diligently with her to make sure she doesn’t fall behind.  I tell him he’s right then sit back and listen as Sabria sings, “Coo, R, S, Two, U, V,” and smile to myself.
    I can’t really judge Garey for stressing about Sabria’s less-than-perfect language skills.  There were times when I worried over the way my youngest daughter, Nikki, struggled with language.  I worked with her a lot all through kindergarten, and by the time she was in elementary school, she was receiving compliments from her teachers on her distinct pronunciation.
    In 2008, Nikki gave a presentation before the World Marine Mammal Conference in Canada.  When Garey says anything about the way Sabria talks, I think, “Nikki talked like that, and today, she is a scientist.”  It puts things in perspective for me.
    More than likely, Sabria is going to be the only grandchild Garey and I will ever have.  Her mom, Natalie, has chosen not to have any more children, and Nikki has told us since she was very young that she will never have kids, because she wants to devote her life to animals.  Because of my daughters’ decisions, I’ve made a conscious effort to enjoy Sabria, flaws and all.
    Sabria isn’t one to sit quietly with her hands folded while you read to her.  She is an interactive child who takes the book from your hands and “reads” the story the way it should have been written in the first place.  You might get treated to a version of Noah and his ark that includes three (not two) little pigs) and a single big bad wolf, but in the end, “everybody lives happy ever and ever.”
    Sabria has several alter egos.  She covers herself with a beach towel and becomes Sweeping Beauty.  She wraps the same towel about her shoulders and becomes Queen Elwanor (Merida’s mom).  Later, the towel becomes a cape and she is transformed into Pink Superman, with pink super powers.  It’s hard to keep up.
    She fiddles with stuff and takes stuff apart that you either didn’t want taken apart or didn’t know would come apart in the first place.  She figures things out in a way that only hands-on people can do.  She is a very tactile person; verbal expression is secondary to her.
    On Friday, before we left for Garey’s family’s Christmas, I was running around like a headless chicken, throwing clothes, makeup and medicine bottles in suitcases and wrapping presents.  I decided to take a quick shower and left my cell phone on the kitchen table.  A few minutes later, I heard the bathroom door open, and Sabria walked in.
    “Say cheese!” she said.
    Like an idiot, I threw back the shower curtain, and right on cue, she snapped several pictures of me in my birthday suit with the camera on my iPhone.
    “Give Gee her cell phone, honey,” I coaxed.
    “Not yet,” she said, as she took several more shots.
    I chased her down, wearing only a towel, then quickly deleted the pictures before she could hit the “share all” button.  (I’m not sure there is a “share all” button, but I knew if there was one, she would find it, and I didn’t relish the idea of having compromising pictures of myself posted on Facebook.)  
    Sabria will turn three years old in January, and I figure any three-year-old who can unlock an iPhone, put it in camera mode, and trick her grandma into having her picture made while she’s taking a shower isn’t going to fall too far behind other kids of her age.  In my opinion, she’s already ahead of the game.