This evening my Little Man learned the meaning of the word "hot." He's two and he's babbling up a storm and has a huge vocabulary already. He knows words that he can put his finger on like puppy dog, socks, shoes, lunch box, etc. He knows how to say "hot" and that Mommy and Daddy caution him against things that are hot, he didn't understand the concept of "hot." Until 6:00 this evening.
While I'm chopping green peppers and onions I have the pan with olive oil heating on the stove. He starts talking to me and I turn around just in time to see him put his little precious finger on the side of the pan. He pulled it away quickly but there was a delayed reaction of about 5 seconds before the pain set in. Then the tears. I was amazed at his stoicism. There were tears, BIG tears and crying but not the screaming I expected. I picked him up and took him to the sink and put his finger under the running cold water. I cried with him. I told him it was hot and "no touch hot." He was saying "hot, hot, hot" over and over again.
Then he pushed away from me. His crying stopped. He looked at his finger and pointed it up to me and said "hot boo boo." My God he's smart. Then he went to the refrigerator, pointed his finger up to the freezer and said "boo boo ice cream." Then, pointing to the sprinkles container he says "that." Genius! Already at the age of two he knows that ice cream with sprinkles cures all ailments! Is it cultural? Genetic? It doesn't matter, he's right.
I've reached the 43,000 word mark in my novel and the story line is closing in on completion. I look forward to writing every second I get to do it and I'm thinking already about revisions and editing and cover art and formatting. I know I'll be sad to see my characters go and this vignette into their lives be completed. I also know that once I say my book is done and I must put it aside, there will be ice cream with sprinkles.