(no subject)
When I leave the room, or when Daddy takes Laura into a room where I'm not, it is usually as if the sun has been torn from the sky. The dramatics can be unbelievably epic.
When I return, she usually bursts into laughter, kicks her feet, and claps. Anne Lamott wrote in her book Operating Instructions: A Journal of My Son's First Year that she and her friend joked that when mom returned to the room after even a brief absence, the baby was saying, "Oh good, the chuck wagon's back." I can't say as I don't feel that way sometimes. But it is true - she does seem to like me, even love me, and that seems to be about much more than just the 24-hour milk bar that goes everywhere with me.
She also loves the cat. I think I am sometimes second-ranked to the cat. She sees the cat and squeals with delight, gasps, and throws herself across the room to try to grab a handful of fur. The cat usually doesn't seem inclined to comply with this little plan, and hides out behind the bookcase or under the side table.
This morning, I was showing her how we pet the kitty nice. I put my thumb in her hand so she couldn't grab any fur and rubbed the backs of her fingers against the cat. He looked a little wary. She looked like I had just given her a million dollars.
She is now tromping around the den (as much as a crawling baby can tromp, anyway) saying, catcatcatcatcatcatcat. Sometimes she forgets what she's saying and it comes out dadadadadadatdatdatdat.
We don't know what to count as her first word, because she's been saying mmamamamaamamma for weeks now, usually when her daddy has her, but it's clear that she's getting the hang of "cat".
She also knows that socks go on your feet. She sits on the floor with her sock in her hand, lifts up her foot, then sets the sock on top of her toes. Occasionally she gets mad when the sock is only on top of her foot, not actually on her foot. Sometimes she forgets what a sock is for and sets it on top of her head, or scrubs the wall with it (hey, if she's going to do that, maybe I should give her a bucket and a sponge).
When I return, she usually bursts into laughter, kicks her feet, and claps. Anne Lamott wrote in her book Operating Instructions: A Journal of My Son's First Year that she and her friend joked that when mom returned to the room after even a brief absence, the baby was saying, "Oh good, the chuck wagon's back." I can't say as I don't feel that way sometimes. But it is true - she does seem to like me, even love me, and that seems to be about much more than just the 24-hour milk bar that goes everywhere with me.
She also loves the cat. I think I am sometimes second-ranked to the cat. She sees the cat and squeals with delight, gasps, and throws herself across the room to try to grab a handful of fur. The cat usually doesn't seem inclined to comply with this little plan, and hides out behind the bookcase or under the side table.
This morning, I was showing her how we pet the kitty nice. I put my thumb in her hand so she couldn't grab any fur and rubbed the backs of her fingers against the cat. He looked a little wary. She looked like I had just given her a million dollars.
She is now tromping around the den (as much as a crawling baby can tromp, anyway) saying, catcatcatcatcatcatcat. Sometimes she forgets what she's saying and it comes out dadadadadadatdatdatdat.
We don't know what to count as her first word, because she's been saying mmamamamaamamma for weeks now, usually when her daddy has her, but it's clear that she's getting the hang of "cat".
She also knows that socks go on your feet. She sits on the floor with her sock in her hand, lifts up her foot, then sets the sock on top of her toes. Occasionally she gets mad when the sock is only on top of her foot, not actually on her foot. Sometimes she forgets what a sock is for and sets it on top of her head, or scrubs the wall with it (hey, if she's going to do that, maybe I should give her a bucket and a sponge).