Family Man™: Reality Bites

By Gregory Keer





Jacob, my 2-year-old, is a motormouth. Even in his crib, he prattles on, talking with his stuffed animals way past the time his older brother has conked out. During normal waking hours, he makes countless requests, such as “I want more paper, Daddy” (when he wants to draw something) and “Where Benji? I wan’ pway wi’ Benji” (Jacob’s the only one forgiven to use the nickname reminiscent of that movie-star mutt for his big brother).


Speaking of movies, a visit to a nice, quiet theater, to watch Brother Bear, now features Jacob’s running commentary. “Uh-oh! Beahr fell in da water,” he warns as if we can actually do something to help the poor furry creature. “Why liddle Bear ha’ no Mommy?” he continues, asking one of the umpteen “why” questions inherent to his age.


Being 2, he’s especially good at something beyond requests – orders. “Sit down, Daddy,” he says after grabbing a copy of Jamberry from the bookshelf. “Get … me … my … paci-fi-yer,” he croaks breathlessly when he’s tired. “I wan’ pivacy! I poop!” he exclaims as he slams the door shut to his room.


In general, we are relieved and amazed at Jacob’s vocabulary. It’s made him less cranky at dinner or in the car, where he’s no longer frustrated about expressing himself verbally. At the same time, he’s also learned to do something else with his mouth …


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