He speaks!

Last week Nathan had his 18-month checkup (Can you stand it? He's 18 months old already! I can't!) so, being dutiful and responsible parents, we pulled out the developmental screening questionnaire from the doctor a few days before the appointment so we could prove that he's normal. Walks, check. Stacks blocks, check. Uses a cup, check. Answers to his name, check. Speaks at least eight words in addition to mama and dada. Hmmm. We had to think pretty hard to come up with eight words, and he rarely said mama and dada. ("Mama" actually means "more milk"--it is usually accompanied with a squeezing-hand-like-milking-a-cow sign in the vicinity of his own nipple. We're thinking of suggesting it to the deaf/hoh community.) Now, we are not overly concerned, mind--after all, we've been saying since he was born that Nathan would be lucky to get a word in edgewise with Miss Talksalot around all the time. Still, it's so nice to hand the questionnaire over to the doctor and not have to explain our lack of concern. So imagine our delight when Nathan chose the intervening three days to begin spouting new words right and left! (Actually, he speaks most of them out of the middle of his mouth. Don't want you to get the wrong impression and think we're training him for Chicago politics already!) Momm-eee. Dadd-eee. App-oh. (That refers to any fruit, which, along with "mama," is Nathan's sustenance of choice.) Car. Truck. Clock. Cracker. Quack. "Ah dew!" (in response to any question that begins, "Who wants to...") Animal noises. It's a delight. He also says "Ummmmmmm," when I give him a choice about something. Makes me laugh.


So after all, the doctor visit went well. Shy boy, but they believed me when I said he could wave and kiss and talk. Three shots. Fourth percentile for weight! Thirteenth for height! Child takes after his mother. Ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-nine-nine-nine-nine-eighth for head circumference! A boy's got to keep all those brains somewhere...