I was fixing lunch for two little boys today, when Tyler changed my agenda.
He planted himself between me and the kitchen counter, he leveraged all of his 21 pounds to push me away from the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and he tugged on my hand.
"Mommy, deet. Mommy, deet. Mommy, deet."
Deet? Any guesses?
He was a boy on a mission, and he would not be ignored. Out of sheer curiosity (and submission to his persuasive prodding), I let him pull me into the living room. He brought me to the center of the room, and he pulled and pulled on my hand.
"Mommy, deet. Mommy, deet."
Still, I had no idea what he wanted to show me. But I sat down, since that seemed like the next step.
Victoriously, he climbed into my lap.
With a great epiphany, I decoded his phrase: "Mommy, sit."
He just wanted me to stop and sit. He didn't have a toy to share, a book to read, or a TV show to beg for. He just wanted me to sit down where he could reach me. He wanted me.
He got me.