Elliot says “Babushka” a lot. He said it last night to a boy at the Chick-Fil-A playground who he’s never met before.
Today he asked me what it means.
Sunday night we went to a Hanukkah party at the Lone Tree Chabad synagogue where we go to services. There was an ice cream truck outside selling $10 ice cream with a long line. It was very cold, and I had no coat.
“Let’s go inside. I’m cold and don’t want to wait in line. We can go to Andy’s Ice Cream later,” I said.
“You’re a jerk,” Elliot said.
I bent down and said, “Don’t talk to me like that or we will leave. That’s not nice.” I asked for an apology which he begrudgingly gave. Elliot was angry, but quickly moved on (thankfully!), and we had a good time at the party making candles, donuts, and painting a dreidel.
This morning — a day and a half later — Elliot said, “Daddy, what’s a jerk?”
“A jerk is a mean person,” I said.
“I’m sorry I called you a jerk at the party,” he said and lunged at me, hugging my legs. I bent down to hug him properly and said, “It’s ok. Thank you for apologizing.” My heart melted that he remembered this incident and felt bad about it.
I am continually amazed and reminded of Elliot’s emotional insights, compassion, integrity, sympathy. Something. Maybe these aren’t the right words. Something about this mind is special when it comes to relationships.
