"You know how I feel about giving."

Abbie’s newest game involves sharing. It begins with her picking up something off the ground outside, usually a woodchip or rock. I haven’t tried yet, but the game may also work with other things she picks up like books, toys, and soap bottles. After carrying around the object for a minute and deciding that she doesn’t want to chew on it, at least not yet, she will often reach out her hand to offer her treasure. I’ll take it from her and enthusiastically thank her for giving me the prettiest rock in the whole world, even though it’s just a landscaping rock that you can buy for about a buck a pound. She can look very pleased when I thank her for the rock, like she just accomplished something very good like cleaning her plate or not peeing while I’m changing her. I’ll hold onto the rock for a second, and then offer it back to her asking if she wants her rock back. The answer is usually a definite “yes” as she snatches it quicker than a chilidog waved under Gary Busee’s nose. To continue the game, I usually have to ask for the rock back; “Give me the rock, please,” I’ll say with an outstretched hand. I may have to repeat myself a few times, but she’ll usually give the rock back to me, and the game will repeat like this for several rounds until one of us loses interest, or until she tries to shove the rock in her mouth and I knock it away with disgust.

This wonderful game teaches many important life skills, even more important than the alphabet, or at least the little used freak letters. It teaches sharing, which is very important because her current idea of sharing is “gimme, gimme, gimme.” Her age and lack of exposure to other children her age means she has no idea that someone else might derive enjoyment from something she wants. I grow weary of her grabbing my pants and collapsing into a tearful blob while I try to eat my dinner in peace. Through this game, she’ll hopefully learn the value of sharing and waiting her turn, two skills she will need to know if she’s to work in fast food as a teenager because no way am I going to pay for her cell phone bill.

I’m also teaching her communication with this game, which is very important since she still isn’t talking. If talking ad nauseam while passing a rock back and forth is what it takes to start that trap yapping, so be it. More importantly, by frequently slipping “please” and “thank you” into these conversations, I’m teaching her not just words, but the most critical words for daily life. A couple years form now, when she walks up to another girl, rips a toy out of her hands, and politely adds “thank you” before strolling away, before I chew her out for taking another girl’s toy, I’ll smile with pride as I know where I taught her to say “thank you.” Of course, for all of this communication to pay off, she has to actually pay attention to me when I talk. Since she just stares at the rock the entire time I hold it instead of making eye contact, I don’t know if anything is sinking into her cranium. Once I held the rock up to my nose so it felt like she was looking straight into my eyes, but I don’t think that counts. Still, she may be well prepared for the future as watching the object as she hands it off is important to do or else she might drop the food she’s handing out of the drive-thru 15 years from now.