It Takes Two

When Katie was a toddler, she wanted my undivided attention. I would try to put her off with a well-worn list of excuses, such as "Mommy has to wash clothes" or "Mommy is reading" or "Mommy needs to clean up the house."

I would dismiss her constant tugging and tell her to play with a toy or game in her room. Ever the strong-willed four-year-old, Katie always replied with one persistant plea, "But Mom-m-my, it takes two-o-o!"

For some reason, I never fully grasped the significance of that message until now. At the time, I believed I was teaching my small children to be independent, and maybe I taught those lessons too well. I remember Matt throwing a baseball on top of the roof and catching fly balls for hours. Aimee entertained an ensemble of stuffed-animals with long afternoon tea parties in her playhouse. Katie paved her own bicycle path from thousands of solo rotations around our house. And especially for Katie, the trampoline seemed more like a Mom than I did.

"You have to learn to practice on your own." "Entertain yourself." "Watch television, read a book, ride your bike, play a video game, jump on your trampoline." Finally, after years of reinforcement, that clamoring plea of an inconsolable toddler is hushed. The children do become independent, conversations become less frequent, doors shut for privacy and invitations to be involved disappear.

I thought about all of this yesterday, as I raked leaves at an elderly widow's house. I had overheard her describe her house as the one with all the leaves in the yard. So I loaded up my rakes and paid her a visit. I wanted to finish raking the entire yard before I left, but she kept pulling me away from my work...just as my toddler had done twenty years ago. Why? Because a real visit takes two. Conversation takes two. Companionship takes two. Company takes two. I finally realized that the leaves could wait.

TODAY'S BIG STORY: Four-year-old toddler seeks attention of busy mother - a daily headline that could run on any family's front page. Katie has been insistent all morning that I stop what I am doing and play with her. Determined to wear me down, she presented her final and most desperate plea: Mommy, it takes two!

IT TAKES TWO

It takes two -

me and you.

One to read

and one to listen.

One to lead

and one to follow.

One to coach

and one to play.

It takes two -

me and you.

One to hide

and one to seek.

One to give

and one to take.

One to sing

and one to dance.

One to tickle

and one to giggle.

It takes two -

me and you.

One to itch

and one to scratch.

One to throw

and one to catch.

One to wash

and one to dry.

One down low

and one up high.

It takes two -

me and you.

One to care

and one to share.

One for me

and one for you -

It takes two.

Dianne B. McLaurin, Copyright 2000.

My kids remember those excuses of mine. Now, as the one who demands their time, they are busy. They have to catch up on housework or wash clothes. They need to rest, read or relax. They don't have time; maybe later. Of course, I totally understand (like a four-year-old).

It takes two.

Dianne ; )