Lots and Lots of Little Words

Cambrie is talking now. And by talking, I mean our typical trip from the grocery store home usually ends with me wanting to pull my hair out because she has just asked the same question, or pointed out the same little fact, with two or three variations in the wording, about twenty five times.

Don't worry, it's a loving and proud sort of wanting-to-pull-my-hair-out. *Uncertain grimace* That exists, right?

About a month ago, while we were in Utah, actually, I heard her say her first, clear, pause-less sentence. We were playing on some mattresses downstairs when I flopped onto one and snuggled under a sheet, pretending to go to sleep. She wanted to pretend, too, so I patted on the pillow next to mine.

"Here. You can sleep here."

She immediately protested, "No mommy! I needa baki too!" Silly me. You can't pretend to sleep without a blanket (baki)! I got her one, and she happily snuggled down for a pretend sleep that probably lasted all of two seconds. I just laid there smiling--marveling at my little talker.

Photo by Jen

Even a month before that she was surprising me with her vocabulary. I would ask her to do something ("Cambrie, please pick your cup off the floor and put it on the counter."), and she would pause, look up at me with big eyes, and say, "Why?"

What? What do you mean, "why"? I was really thrown for a loop. "Why"? You're not even two, yet! How on earth are you using words more complex than "milk" or "shoe"?*

I love to watch her "yes"s progress, as well. It was really cute when she started saying "uh-huh," and even cuter when she learned to nod to say yes. Just within the past few weeks she's been using a new favorite, "Yeah, sure." We ask her to do something, and she'll say "yeah, SURE!" and run off to do it. Or she'll stand begging for a snack or a toy, and we'll say, "Okay, you want this snack?" "Yeah, sure." Like she hasn't just been begging desperately for that snack. We think it's pretty funny.

Of course, the hilarity only lasts so long--especially when we're trapped in the car.

"Where-a Keith?"
"At his home."
"Where-a Keith?"
"Still at his home."
"Where-a Nori?"
"At her home."
"Where-a Bynn?"
"What? Brynn has been gone for like two months! Well, she's in her home. In Arizona."
"Where-a Bynn?"
"...in Arizona."
"Bynn a-home. A-zona."
"Yes."
"Where-a Ma-di?"
"Melody is at home with her mommy and daddy."
"A-Madi a Papa Cottle a Numi."
"Yes, she's with Grandpa Cottle and Yumi."
"...Where-a Keith?"
*Sigh* "At his home."
"Where-a Keith?"
"Well I don't know, Cambrie. Where is Keith?"
"Keith a-home. A-mommy an daddy."
"Exactly! Keith is at home with his mommy and daddy. See, you know where he is!"
"Where-a Keith?"
Aaaaauugghhhh!!!

It kinda makes sense now why Patrick's sister, with a three year old daughter, sometimes has to insist that "Mommy is in time out now. You can't talk to me! I'm in time out!" Yeah, I'm definitely tucking that one away for future use--I'm going to need it.

In reality, I am very proud of Cambrie. I recognize that with all of her talking, and probably with all her repeated questioning, she is learning vast amounts. Every time she asks a question and I respond, she learns about communication, about cause and effect, and about mommy's personality, I'm sure. She also has a fantastic memory for people and names, and I think that's wonderful. I like to reinforce that memory by talking about family and friends she's seen before. Of course, a little variety in the conversation topic might be nice...

I guess I'll just have to gear myself up for three or four more years of this sort of torture mind numbing repetition fascinating growth and development. It's all in the name of an incredibly cute little girl, after all. And that is the one thing I can never deny--she is absolutely worth it.

Photo by Jen

*For those upset that I put the question mark outside the quotation mark several times in this post, know that I did it on purpose. I think the American rule is just silly in some cases, and this is one of them. I'm taking clarity over technical accuracy, here.