My little girl is almost 2, and her language acquisition is stunning. She has used sentences with up to 7 words in them, and we stopped counting the words in her vocabulary months ago. It is an incredibly interesting thing to behold and can be phenomenally hilarious.
Earlier this week, I was coding away furiously at the computer, while the little one was eating crackers and playing. I was somewhat paying attention to her but, for the most part, we were both just doing our own thing while waiting for Mommy to get home. The crackers were in a little green bowl, and she would ever-so-carefully retrieve one at a time and then eat it with gusto, declaring, “Monster bite!” This went well for the first half of the bowl, but then she managed to catch the edge with her finger and the whole thing went topsy-turvy onto the floor, spilling crackers everywhere. Her hand went up to her forehead, and she exclaimed, “Oh my goodness, Daddy! So messy!”
Last week, during breakfast, we were having our ritual breakfast of an incredible amount of yoghurt and some cereal. A quick aside: almost invariably, the first words that pass the mouth of my wee lass in the morning aren’t, “Hello!” or “Good morning!” but instead are the monstrous exclamation, “YOGHURT! YOGHURT! YOGHURT!” This particular morning was no different, and she was eating cheerios along with her blueberry yoghurt. She had finished half of each of her servings and then came up with the remarkably genius idea of putting the yoghurt on the cheerios. Unfortunately, this didn’t seem to taste as good as one might think. “I don’t like it, Daddy,” she told me. “No more, please. Want YOGHURRRRTT!” I told her that she would have to finish what she had before she got more yoghurt. She looked all hurt and repeated, “I don’t like it, Daddy.” I looked at her, stoic, and she realized that I was unbudgeable on this matter. She picked up the spoon, looking mightily unhappy and told me, “I eat it.” Her lip curled with a small sneer, and she added epithetically, “Daddy.”
Another time, Mommy and Daddy were curled up on the couch, probably folding clothes or something nearly as entertaining, when the little one came running out of the kitchen and exclaimed, “There’s a kangaroo!” When asked the whereabouts of said kangaroo, she told us, “He’s right there,” and pointed to the hallway. It was made abundantly clear that it was an evil kangaroo and that he was chasing our tiny heroine. It ended up all right though – that night, the little one pulled my arms around her while reading a book and told me, “I’m safe!”
Just this week, we finally got rid of the crib and started the little one sleepign in a “big-girl bed.” The presentation of the big-girl bed – it was a surprise for her, after a night away with her grandparents – was met with solid approval and dancing. Going to bed the first night proved to be a bit of a challenge, though. At one point, she got out of bed and started walking down the hallway. I took her back to bed, and then we had a bit of a talk. “Little one,” I said. “You have to go to sleep in your bed, now. It’s bed time.” She looked at me unhappily, threw her arms up in the air and yelled, “AW, MAN!”