There’s just nothing like a conversation with a one year old.
I sat down in the rocker with Becca, age 20 months.
Oo ha oo ha!
Yeah! (said in a voice that no one can emulate, that will forever ring in my head. As only a one year old can say it.)
Okay! (Read the book, lifted the flaps, found the monkey, etc.) Okay all done!
Mmore mmore m-more!
No, all done.
Oh. (said with a sigh)
Time to rock, little one!
She snuggles down in the crook of my arm, never one to cuddle upright over my shoulder. Oh no, she has to lay like an infant, across my lap, with her baby, blankie, and water cup. With her head on the armrest and her stomach curled toward mine.
She catches my eye, and quite seriously stares deeply into my green eyes with her royal blue ones, holds of two little hands with her fingers held in the funniest little scrunched up positions and says:
This means, Please sing me songs, Mom. And not just one, but two. Perhaps three. It also means start with the one that makes me giggle, and then do the one that makes me semi calm, and then I’ll most likely ask for one more, so at that point, it’s kinda your choice of the remaining four standard melodies.
All that, from the word “Tew.”
But then, out of no where … She points to her eye.
Eye. Eye. No. Mou. (pointing to each as she says it.)
Oh boy … I know what I’m in for now.
Mama (points to my eye.)
Yes, Mama’s eye.
Mama (points to my nose)
Yes, Mama’s nose.
And so on and so forth. But tonight, she took it to a whole new level. She pointed to the door and said:
Da. Eye. Ja. Nose.
And then pointed to her baby, Baby. Mouth.
I just kept waiting, thinking she’d say more.
Oh right–yes Becca, Daddy has eyes, and a nose and a mouth. And Joshua has eyes, a nose and a mouth. And does baby?
And does Becca?
YEAH!! Da. Ba.
Daddy and … Bop? (no) Ball? (no) um…. Sheep? (Yeah!!) Daddy read you the sheep book?
That’s great BooBoo! Sleepy time now?
TEW. (serious eyes again, two hands held up in demonstration.)
Okay, Boo. Tew songs just for you. Coming up.
My word, she steals my heart. And then steals it again. And again. And again. There’s just NOTHING like a one year old.