Communication Breakdown

A year ago, while Ezra was 1 year old, he would cry. He would cry and he would pout and he would whimper and I would wish. I would wish that he could speak. "Tell me what is wrong and I can fix it! Is it your eye? Your teeth? Your tummy? Is it too hot or too wet or too noisy? What is the problem? Speak to me."

Now Ezra is 2 years old. He cries. I ask, "Do you need a nose job?" "NO, NO-JAHB" How dare I offend him with such a ridiculous suggestion?! More intense wails of distress. "Are you hungry?" I ask with the tissue still in hand from the previous nose-wiping offer. "NO" "Do you want some Rice Krispies?" "NO!" "Do you want a nose job?" "NO-JAHB?" he intones as if to say, "Hey, that's not a bad idea. I'm glad I thought of it." I wipe his nose. Life returns to our regularly scheduled bliss. I'm left to wonder: Is the advent of speaking really that helpful?