Recently, I was listening to some parents of junior high students (yes, I realize it’s now called “middle school.”  But I’m old school.  Without the “school”…), who were bemoaning all the issues that kids these days have to endure.  I smiled, thinking of my dear, sweet two-year-old at home playing with her Play-Doh and chattering to her stuffed animals.  And then, a horrifying realization hit me:

“Remember how much you hated junior high, Kath?  Remember the torment, the teasing, the desperate desire to be beautiful and popular?  Guess  what?  You get to LIVE THROUGH IT ALL OVER AGAIN, via your daughter!”

Ack.

As if I didn’t dislike 70s reruns enough; now I got to see them LIVE!  I was not happy at this prospect.

Yes, I have many years until my daughter is in junior high (yes, I’m going to keep saying “junior high” – try and stop me! Bwahaha!).  But please, Lord, please spare her from all the travails I suffered leading up to those years.  No, I won’t let  her skip a grade, as I did, wrenching her from kids her own age and social maturity level.  Yes, I will encourage her to be a part of a team, whether it’s Girl Scouts or soccer or the debate club.  Yes, I will try to help her develop self-confidence and a positive outlook and the right priorities, so she won’t have her self-esteem battered by Mean Girls.  But I can only do so much.  As my own mother would obviously tell you, after listening to her nerd daughter come home every day and whine “nobody liiiiiiiikes me!”

But I digress.

I think as parents, one of our roles is to armor our children against as much as we can, with shields of self-worth, pride, confidence, and the secure knowledge that they are loved for who they are, no matter what.  I don’t mean delude them into believing everyone thinks the sun rises and sets on them.  I just mean helping them discover who they are, where they want to go, and giving them the encouragement and the tools to get there.  Like, how to jimmy open a locker from the inside, if you’ve been crammed into one, for example.

But I digress.

No, I won’t live through it all over again, because I won’t let my daughter live through it once.  I know what to do to prevent it.  As the saying goes “If you can’t be a role model, be a terrible warning.”  Knowing that I can help my daughter avoid some of the heartbreak I endured in my eleven years of public school makes it infinitely easier to recall the past.  Because I know history, and therefore am not doomed to repeat it.

My two-year-old daughter has not, so far, succumbed to the “Terrible” moniker – she’s still Terrific, Talented, Teachable, Thoughtful and Touching.  But mostly she’s Talkative.

We’ve come a long way since she first pointed to a cup and said “wawa,” two weeks before her first birthday.  Now it’s pretty much non-stop chattering – to me, to her stuffed animals, in her crib at night… Some of it is downright hilarious, especially when she repeats something an adult has said.  And yes, we now have to be very, very careful (I refer to the wince-inducing “crap!” episode).  But it is pretty funny when a toddler tells you she has “bad knees,” or says “oh my goodness!” when she drops something, or exclaims a gossipy, conspiratorial “I know!”

Every day she surprises me with new words.  A month ago I foolishly tried to write down her current vocabulary.  Once I got to 200 words, I realized it was far too late to start this endeavor.  She was a full-blown linguist at this point.

She mastered full sentences long ago, before her second birthday.  I do love it when she says “Mama go work at the paper; bye-bye, see ya, have a good day.”  She also just mastered “Telegraph.”  Our company never sounded so cute.  She’s unfailingly polite, too, with “please,” “thank you” and “you’re welcome” all down pat and used liberally.  This past weekend, she met me at the door with a handful of purple roses and, smiling, said “Happy birthday, Mommy!”  That was the best present ever, hands down.

She sings the lyrics to songs.  She fills in the last words in rhyming Dr. Suess books.  She even makes jokes.  When I was dressing her for outside last week, I was ticking off the attire: “Rain hat, rain coat…”  She chimed in with “rain…binkie!  Hahahahahaha!”  I love when she cracks herself up.

Of course, not every word delights and warms my heart.  She has adopted my exasperated “ come on!” a little too well.  And if I could go a day without hearing “again!” and “uppie!” and “what is [insert name of whoever’s in the room, on the television, or whatever stuffed animal is available] doing?” a million times, I’d consider it a spa day.

It is endearing when she talks to her babies and stuffed animals.  Not only does she do the voices for them – “Hi, Pooh!”  “Hi, Piglet!”  “How are you?”  “Fine, how are you?” – but she is quite the loving little baby-mama.  She puts them down for naps when “they’re so tired,” and says “Good night, sleep tight.”  And she’s big on hugging.  “Group hug!” she’ll command.  And of course, “kiss, too?”

Yup, so far, the Talkative Twos are pretty darn adorable.  Maybe she’s just lulling me into a false sense of security so she can slam me with the Terrible Threes.  But I don’t think so.  Besides, I’m sure she’d tell me.

I'm writing an article for the Telegraph's "Feast" section in March that offers tips for dealing with finicky-eating toddlers.  If you have a tried-and-true method that you'd like to share, please post it here or send it to me at kpalmer@nashuatelegraph.com, and I'll compile the best ones for publication.

Thanks for your help!