The Power of the Right Word

This week I went over to a friend's house to help her pack and to be entertained by her adorable two-year-old son. We were in their bedroom, packing and sorting and Andrew was playing on his own. At some point in the morning, he walked into the room holding a little package that my friend had made up for his birthday party. It had two cookies and a magnet of Andrew in a clear plastic bag and was sealed with a cute label she had stamped. Andrew pulled at the package, trying to open it, showing it to us, and mumbling in his almost-speaking sort of way.
I assumed that he wanted a cookie, because that's what he was holding, and what kid doesn't want a cookie? I'm not sure what my friend was thinking. Maybe she knew what he needed in that sixth sense way that mothers develop, or maybe she needed some time to put together all the clues. She told him that they were saving the package for his uncle; I asked Andrew if he wanted a cookie. Neither of our comments made any impression on him. He just continued to pull at the wrapping and motion to us. After about a minute of this, my friend stopped her packing, took the package from him, and said, "do you want a snack?" Andrew's eyes lit up instantly when she asked this, and he repeated, "snack." There was such visible relief in his little face at discovering this word, like "ha! I've found the word that will get me what I want." He toddled after her to the kitchen and came back smiling with grape tomatoes.
I've been thinking about that moment of relief on Andrew's face today. I've been thinking how I can feel like that some days when I'm writing. I will try out all of these words and sentences and feel like Andrew struggling with that packaging. And then suddenly I'll get it. I'll find the word or the phrase or the way of thinking that makes it all seem clear.
"Snack." That's a pretty powerful word for Andrew to remember. And he's starting to realize the power that it holds.