2

You would think that this would be the moment. There are grandparents on the couch beside him. There are grandparents on the floor taking a home video. There are friends on the couch a little ways away. In front of the TV are giant boxes wrapped in bright colors and cartoon characters. His parents new house has become a stadium for his enjoyment, but they don't understand him at all.

Jadon is two. It is his birthday. He doesn't really understand it is his birthday, or why all these people are over. He doesn't understand why his mom and dad look at him on this day with a sense of blessing, happy he is here. He doesn't know that they want it to be as perfect a day as can be, just to reflect the level of joy they have for his presence.

This is special for them in a way he can't quite grasp.

When he is older, he may look back and remember the love in this room, the people crowded around celebrating his life, but now they are just kids that are taking his things or adults that want him to perform. Fortunately his new word, "No" seems to stop both, at least a little.

His chair is pulled to the center of the carpet, where his mom tells him to sit. "No" he says, can't she see that he is busy playing with his screwdriver. She then pulls a back from behind the stack is boxes. "No" he says not really caring about the bag. Bags get brought into the house all the time after all. She grabs him, he says, "No". Then she shows him something in the bag. Wait, that might be a toy, he thinks. I suppose I could sit in the chair.

Jadon pulls the fire truck from the bag. Alright, sitting in the chair was worth while, he thinks. Why didn't they start with the toy? The bag was a confusing ploy. Now that I have the truck, I mean they did just give it to me, I should play with it. Out of the chair he prongs, but he need to twist to get out of mom's grasp. For a few moments he pushes the truck around on the cardboard box it is still attached to.

"Come site down, Jadon," his parents are saying. "No," he says. I playing with the sweet truck you just gave me he is thinking. Jadon looks and again they are holding a bag. Big people must really like bags, he thinks. The boy from church gets to play with my toys while I get to look at bags with my mom? I don't think so.

By the time the cake arrives, Jadon is completely done. He sits against the wall saying "No" to every comment passed his way. His parents plead. He says "No". They demand. He says, "No" with an ugly face. Even the brightly glowing fire on top of the cake is. Not enough to change his mind. He parent shift tactics. The big guns. "Grandma is going to blow out your candle.". Normally this ploy would work, but by this point Jadon couldn't care less.

Sienna and Jacob needed up blowing out the candle. Jadon didn't budge.

It will be years before he realizes why parents insist on torturing their children by giving them a parade of toys only to tell them they can't play with them. By the time he understands, he probably won't even remember. That's ok. For those of us that we're there, we can tell him.