Tag Archives: talking

Church today

After church today, when Daddy came to get you in the nursery, you came running without shoes on.

After a moment, someone followed you out carrying your shoes.

I picked you up, and you said, “I have a stinkaroo.”

A dirty diaper.

The nursery worker said she changed you once.

But it was really cute to hear you speaking in a complete sentence, “I have a stinkaroo.”

Farewell sweet mandarin oranges, farewell

Tonight, you were shoving mandarin oranges into your little mouth as fast as mommy could give them to you.

“More,” Mommy asked.

“Mmmm.”

“Please,” Mommy encouraged.

“Plaaaaa,” You repeated between bites.

Much too soon, “that’s all,” Mommy said. “You ate them all. They’re all gone.”

Your little hand turned as you waved goodbye to the memory of oranges.

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.”

An update at 14 months

You’re speaking in code. 1280px-Enigma_rotors_and_spindle_showing_contacts_rachet_and_notch

It’s up to us to decipher what you’re trying to say.

Some things you say are pretty simple.

”Dadadadada”

“Mamamamama”

Other utterings are a little more complex.

“Idoitdoidoit”

“Idueidueidue”

They are different words, but mean the same thing. When we’re trying to put a shoe on you or give you something and you would rather do it – “Idoitdoidoit.”

Deciphering often has a lot to do with context.

“Idon.” I have no idea what it means. I thought I did when I wrote it down but as I try to explain it here, the meaning eludes me. It’s not what you say when you’re done eating. When you’re done, you just drop surplus food or a bottle onto the floor without a sound.

“Aye.”

“Aye.” Accompanied by the point of your little finger, it means you want something, we just have to figure out what it is.

Mommy tries to get you to “use your words,” while daddy is trying to just use words himself.

“Aye.” Point.

“What do you want?”

“Aye.” Point.

”The apple?”

“Aye.” Point.

“Do you want the apple?”

“Aye.” Point.

Your tone never changes. Seemingly, you could go on for hours saying the same word and pointing.

“Aye.” Point.

“The kiwi?” It’s on the counter next to the apple.

“Aye.” Point.

“Kiwi or apple?” I ask, holding them both to you.

“Aye.” You point at the kiwi.

And then you eat it all.

You eat a lot.

You move a lot and you eat a lot. You’re walking nearly everywhere. You only crawl to get up or down a step, but you’re really great at turning around and lowering yourself down. Down the back stairs or over the side of the bed, you turn around and down you go.

Saturday we went to celebrate Easter with Mommy’s side of the family.

Easter egg hunt.

Easter egg hunt.

At dinner with the family – there were 25 of us – you consumed an entire pear. For dessert. After already eating a lot of dinner. Daddy cut a piece of the pear and you ate it. And you kept eating until it was gone.

You can drink as much as 12 ounces from the liquid solids bottle during a meal. You’re not eating with a fork or spoon yet, but you can eat a lot with your hands. If we try to make you eat with a spoon, you squeal and say, “idoitdoidoit.” But you don’t. You smile happily while you play with the spoon and eat with your other hand.

There can be a lot of squealing and sometimes you just scream. At 14 months-old, it’s like you’ve entered the terrible twos. I can’t imagine what you’ll be like in 10 months.

“Aye.”