C is for Chatterbox

Since having Daniel, I've noticed my parents like to mention that I talked alot as a child. H wants to know what happened, as I am now known as a person who considers her words carefully before speaking. It sometimes must give me the appearance of being a bit shy, but it served me in good stead as an executive assistant at my former company in my former life.

Daniel's 18 month appointment was marked by the pediatrician suggesting that he might need to be evaluated for speech delay. No sooner did I panic, and begin making appointments than Daniel seemed to decide: "OK, time to talk."

He's been making up for lost time ever since. I'm not sure that I can even give an accurate count of words at this point, as his vocabulary has exploded. Mama, Dada, car, ga-ga (this has meant dog from day one, don't ask!), kitty, pig, cow, apple, milk, cookie, cracker, cheese, walk, shoes, bag, box... the list goes on.

Last night we sat in the rocking chair, for a little pre-bedtime cuddle as we usually do... he looked up at me clutching his blankie in one hand, and his "ga-ga" in the other and said, "Bed?" So I kissed him, put him in the crib and he promptly rolled over and was asleep in about 0.2 seconds. (Please don't be under the illusion that bedtime is this easy every night!).

It is an awesome, amazing and at times totally weird transition to go from being the caregiver and trying to figure them out: Is he hungry, tired, bored, need to be changed? To having them start to request things from you like "Milk?" And last night's "Bed?"

Wow.