For months now we’ve translated the singular words spoken by the little one into decipherable
statements demands and for the most part she’s agreed with our interpretations, if not the speed with which we carry out said demands. She’s amassed a respectable lexicon that is admittedly rather noun-heavy, with a fair sprinkling of words spoken in the possessive case. This week something is decidedly different. For the first few evenings I thought she seemed chattier than usual, but now I can pinpoint the exact difference in her language evolution. She’s mastering the art of the verb, and her assertive “my’s” and definitive objects (milk’s) string together into statements that are both exhilarating and mundane at the same time.
“My DRINKING my milk,” she announces loudly while slamming her sippy cup onto the table, spraying me with a fountain of milk droplets.
“My EATING my betties (berries),” she proclaims while tossing the damp strawberry greens onto my plate, and leaving red trails of stains across her lap.
“My WALK outside!” – announced expectantly at the door – has replaced the less polite version from before. That one went something like this: Toddler stands by door yelling “Bye BYE!” at the top of her lungs and then bursting into tears when it is suggested that she first put on her shoes and her jacket.
It’s charming and adorable right now, so I’ll try to enjoy this milestone as I’ve tried to embrace them all (feeding herself, becoming mobile, becoming faster at being mobile, mastering the potty, having to use the potty at every disgusting gas station between here and Kentucky). Because I know one day it will most certainly lose some of its charm.
“My TAKING the car and STAYING OUT way past curfew.”