“my-my.” that’s how you say momma. you don’t say much, but what you do say you say over and over and over. ball for instance. everything is “ba-hull.” you say it all day long, point to anything round or circular and say “ba-hull”. ball was technically your first word. you said it clearly and used it accurately on your 11 month birthday. it was fitting. you say it sometimes when you aren’t talking about a ball, i think it’s your ‘go-to’ word, when your mind wants to say something, that’s what comes out. right now, you are sitting behind me (supposed to be napping) pointing at the lights on the ceiling and calling them balls.
you can actually say a lot, it’s just most of it isn’t very clear. this is what i have ‘heard’ you say:
mama, more, kitty, balloon, hi, da, go, book, baby, bottle, ball, hot.
somedays i hear you mutter, “oh man.” another day you stood at the door of the store and said, “eh ma? I go.” and pointed to the door. you actually communicate quite well without using words, most of the time you chirp or twill like a bird and beckon to what you want. you and i have a virtually wordless conversation multiple times a day. at first it was very frusterating for us both, until i started to listen. i learned, sorry it took me so long, to listen to you by watching you. by responding to your facial expressions and antics.
you were hungry, you danced and stomped and whined the whole time i made your mac and cheese. i placed you in your highchair and you started the long journey of the spoon from bowl to your face. i sat down with mine, you immediately whined and fussed and pointed at me. “what?! it’s the same thing, eat your food!” then i saw. it wasn’t my food you wanted, it was my spoon. why would you want my spoon? why? because you see mine working so much better than yours. it can’t be your skill (or lack of) you think, it must be that i have a magical spoon. so i give you my spoon. my heart breaks, i knew how hungry you were. it’s still a struggle, so i feed you. you are happy and satisfied.
maybe that’s the connection between mother and child. i have spent sooooo many hours staring at your face, memorizing your every facial tic. every corner of your smile, every glint of your eyes. you don’t need words. i know you, i know what you want. i know who you are. i will always be your captivated audience.
someday you will talk clear as day. someday you might use words i don’t even understand. i hope, i pray, that i will always listen your face. i pray that i will always hear you as clear as i do now.