The Sweetest Thing Ever

Other children learn to talk almost as a reflex. Words come tumbling our of their mouths like little building blocks that they stack in taller and taller towers as the days go by.

You've always preferred to knock towers over.

You babble just as much as the next kid, but the sounds aren't blocks that build ideas- they're marbles that roll out of your mouth and around the room. Lots of the tones and inflection that language uses, but none of the meaning.

Until lately. Now that you're two, you're starting to get the hang of talking. You've discovered that if you can make the right sound, the grownups will do what you want. It is so fun to hear you talk. Other children say things with an immediacy that implies their thought has just been made audible. You have to put effort into it, and the effect is that it seems you've cast a spell. You don't yell "No!"- you start to cry, then realize you should try the magic word. You stop crying, look up, form your mouth just so and say "Nnnoooo" in a quiet, slow, hopeful way. You've said the incantation and only have to wait for it to work.

The sweetest thing you say right now is "Hello". It is the spell that makes people light up with joy and laughter. Every time you say it there are cheers and "Yay"s, and people say "Hello!" right back. It makes me so glad that you share a room with us, because when I'm thinking I wish I wasn't awake I'll hear your "Hello" and smile.

It's such a relief to hear your lovely voice saying words,
Love,
Mom

Too much to post

I wish I wrote to you more often. I'm sure someday you'll wish I had too. I do write posts in my head, but getting them out and onto this blog takes time I don't often have.

I write posts about how cute you are. How perfect you are. How beautiful you are. I describe the cute things you do.

I write posts about how much I worry about you, not because I think you've got problems, but because the world is problematical.

I wrote a very heartfelt apology about bringing home a baby without giving you any warning. It's not that I didn't try- almost every day we'd pat my belly and tell you there was a baby in there. You were too young to understand. It was quite a shock to have her show up out of the blue, and I'm sorry to have surprised you like that.
Actually, you've handled it quite well. I think you think she's the Best Baby Doll Ever.

I write about the strange journey your body is on. It started out so small, it's no wonder you do things on your own schedule and in your own way. I'd be a liar if I said it didn't worry me. It worries me because I love you, and I want things to be easier for you than they sometimes are. It's frustrating for us all that you have so much trouble talking.

I write about how much I love you. Still haven't gotten that post right though. I'm waiting for them to invent words grand enough to describe how hard I love you. Maybe you'll be a mom someday, then you'll know how that post was supposed to go.

Love you,
Mom