The kids I know are pretty stinking adorable and pretty funny. I learn something different from each of them.
From a 2-year-old I affectionately call Stinky Feet Apple Juice, I’ve learned some pretty valuable life lessons.
One, the proper way to throw a fit. She seriously has it down to an art form. Each one must include tears, rolling on the floor, kicking feet and intermittent loud cries if your fit is being ignored.
I’m not sure when in my life I’ll need to use what I have learned, but I have been well-schooled.
Two, how to say something in just the right way and with just the right facial expression to get anyone to do whatever you want. This one she’s perfected. Snacks, toys, attention and watching “Frozen” for the millionth time all can be acquired with just the right facial expression or adorableness.
This skill, however, is something I probably never will be able to use — I do not possess the magical quality of 2-year-old cuteness.
The same seems to be true if you have that 2-year-old cuteness, that anything you do is cute. For example, when I taught her to cheer “Go Cats” in the home of an Indiana and Louisville fan, it still was cute because she presented it in such an adorable way.
When I go into their house and cheer “Go Cats,” I don’t get quite the same reaction.
Through my friendship with this tiny person I also know all the words to “Sticky Sticky Bubblegum” and “Baby Shark, do do do do do.” If you don’t know a 2-year-old you’ve missed the joys of hearing these songs, and songs like them, over and over again. With no exaggeration, 20 times in a row.
It probably is a lesson in how to properly memorize, or something like that.
In turn, the kiddos have told me I impart certain tidbits of knowledge on them. They call them Becca-isms.
The first one they remember comes from when I’m babysitting them and they want to do something dangerous. I tell them no because if they get hurt they’ll have to go to the emergency room and wait and wait and wait. They repeat this one to me often.
A few weeks ago they told me about some of the wisdom I’ve imparted on them through the years they’ve known me.
Another phrase they say I often repeat is “don’t anger the 2-year-old.” Angering said 2-year-old often results in the fits I described earlier.
More recently they picked up on a couple others. While watching a University of Kentucky basketball game at their house one night the youngest one told me to be quiet because her baby dolls were sleeping. I told her, “babies don’t sleep during U of K games.” They repeat that one to me a lot now.
Evidently, I also gave them some quality relationship advice.
After watching the movie “Frozen” multiple times while babysitting them I told them “never fall for a Hans and instead wait for your Kristoff.” If you’ve seen the movie, you’d know why this rings true.
So there you have it, lessons learned from a 2-year-old and lessons I’ve evidently left on her and her sisters, whom I call Big Mac and Unicorn Watermelon.
I really hope I’ve left them with more important life lessons and knowledge. But this seems to be what has stuck with them. That and a love of crafting.