Life Lessons from a Two year old:

If you don’t like it, throw it on the floor and you don’t have to eat it.

Only you decide when and where you will wear shoes.

If you want more attention from those around you, pee your pants and announce it to the room.

When you figure out that saying a certain thing makes people laugh at you, say it over and over and over until it’s not funny anymore. That’ll teach ‘em.

Never accept that something has been placed out of your reach. That's what climbing is for.

Keep yourself unpredictable. Just when they think they’ve got you figured out, change your mind completely so they have to keep working to figure out what will make you happy. Never let it get easy for them.

Once you get an idea in your head, never let it go despite what logical minds tell you. If you want to put on your bathing suit and walk outside at 3AM in January, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Do many spontaneous, fun things that people rave about, but always refuse to do it on command.

Allow only flavor and hunger, rather than logic, to dictate when and what you choose to eat.

Delight in your own body noises is contagious.

Only you decide when and where you will wear pants.

The first time they mess with your nap time, make them sorry they ever did, and it won't happen again.

The ice cream truck is much more interesting than the ice cream.

If you're not sure what it is, bite it.

Don't worry about drool.

Socially Awkward, Networking (Matthew Richards likes this)

To the middle-aged women in my life
and those slightly older
who grew up in a time
when the boys all took shop class
while the girls took home economics
and who have only recently become computer literate:

You are forgiven,
To a point.

You missed those years
where you might have learned the rules of going digital.
You are now learning it as a second language.
You will always speak it with a telling accent.

It is new to you
And wonderful:
All this pointing and clicking,
Gleaning tidbits from lives
From which you’d have otherwise been excluded
Or at least had to work to see into.

That part’s fine.
My words are there to be read.
Your responses are welcome.
Click that you like it.
I’ll know you’ve been there.

It’s when you see me later
And feel the need to inform me,
In person,
In that awkward way you have,
That you now know
exactly what I recently posted online
in order for you to be able to know it
without having to have the whole conversation with you,
It is in these moments
That I can’t help but cringe a little,
Glancing awkwardly about for an excuse to walk away.
Stop doing that.

You’re nice ladies, all of you.
Even you,
Mom.
But please stop opening conversations with:
“So, I saw that you enjoyed the sunny weather yesterday and were glad you remembered to bring your sunglasses…”
What am I going to say to that?

Ladies, you need to know:
There is a nuanced etiquette
to incorporating information garnered online
into face to face conversation.
To a digital native this skill is second nature,
but for you…
It is painful to watch you fumble over the exchange,
Blurring the line between simple communication about a communication
And casually informing someone you're stalking them.

You’re well aware that
If I should forget to close the curtains on my house,
Whatever you see through the windows
As you drive past
Or stroll by
Or lurk in nearby shrubbery,
That’s fair game.
I have no right to complain about your view.

Trash, left on the curbside, becomes public domain.
Whatever you may glimpse as you pass my Hefty bags
Or rummage through them, if that’s your thing,
You are free to discover.
And if you do these things,
it would seem
you would know enough to keep it to yourself.
Not once have you remarked
That I forgot to turn off the basement light again when I went to bed at 1:37 after eating only half of the hummus I opened, which you noticed I forgot to return to the refrigerator afterward.
You have yet to remark that I
have have gotten much better as separating plain paper from glossy,
though I should be more thorough about rinsing out all those jars of spaghetti sauce.
Because, that would be weird.
Deep down you know why saying such things would be tactless.
Why even though you have every right to some knowledge,
It is not always socially acceptable to acknowledge having it.

You mean well.
Your faux pas is met with grace
and that inner smile
Reserved most often for goofy exchange students, small children,
and the sweet, yet senile elderly.
You know no better,
Despite my wish that you did.
Telling you that you should
will not teach you.
It would provoke, at best, yet another awkward conversation
At worst, a series of them.
Social skills are things
best discovered for one's self,
not taught to elder adults by their juniors.
Just try, will you?
You will be forgiven,
To a point.

Christopher's Mom and Matthew Richards like this.