An Inarticulate Age

J turns four next week. The bottle of Moet Chandon will not be uncorked this birthday. However, it continues to be my talisman - someday, its time will come to effervesce, to fill our home with many miniature rainbows. I am willing to wait.

I realize J is at an inarticulate age. While her vocabulary is substantial it is not enough to keep up with more complex thoughts that she is now capable of processing. She is beginning to recognize patterns, that cause and effect are intertwined, that adult behavior is full of contradiction and does not follow prescriptive rules. Often rules are completely flouted without explanation or apology.

The gap between her speech and thought frustrates her. Often she vents it in misdirected anger towards me. She does not want to be disciplined and at the same time is not sure enough of herself to completely disregard my will. I cannot remember what it used to feel to be four - it would have helped me understand her better. The world around her is now discrete and not a blur of shifting images. She has a sense of self, of family and how that is similar or different from others around her.

She never pays any attention to mothers of other children but will stare longingly at their fathers. A few days ago she asked me "I don't have a Daddy right ?" I told her what I have told her many times before. "Yes you do. He does not stay with us" to which she replied "But he is not my real Daddy" implying perhaps a man who remains absent from her life for four years forsakes his right to be her father. I could not agree more. "So when can I have a good Daddy ?" she persists.

I tell her the truth "I can only try, sweetheart. Then it is all up to God." She breaks my heart as she turns to her toys complacent that Mom will make it happen like she does a lot of other things in her life. So limited her experience of it ! "God will send me a good Daddy soon, right Mommy ?" she says after a while. "I'm sure that he will" I say praying for her that her wish is fulfilled.