Talking Sunday morning

“Naannn-nee.”

“That means banana,” Mommy said from the other room.

The page in your book that reminds you of daddy.

The page in your book that reminds you of daddy.

You had just used the dog stairs to climb into mommy and daddy’s bed.

“Naannn-nee.”

You pointed at the cat.

“Naannn-nee.”

You pointed at toys on the floor.

“Nannn-nee.”

“You want your toys?”

“Naannn-nee.”

I put you on the floor, facing your toys. You instantly turned the other way, picked up a book and handed it to me.

“Naannn-nee.”

“Do you want to look at your book?” I asked as I held it open for you to see the bright colors and words.

“Dad-ee,” you said, emphatically tapping at the page.

“Did you hear that?” I called to Mommy. “What did she say?”

“Daddy,” Mommy replied.

“I know,” I said, as you took the book back. “She’s pointing at a picture of a banana.”

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