Little Talker

Isaac can say "mama," "dog" and "duck" now.

Until today, "mama" had been a word associated only with pain, irritation and despair. He'd only say it when he was sad or frustrated, and when he did, he more whined than he said it. Today, though, he just said "mama." Like, "Hey there, how are ya?" Not like "I'm angry and upset and I don't know why but if you don't fix it I'm going to pull all of your hair out."

"Dog" and "duck" both sound a lot like "da," but he know's what he's saying. He'll point to a dog (usually real) or a duck (usually plastic) and say "Da. Da." Then he smiles and claps his hands.

Even though he's exhausting me, I am still so taken by him. He's less and less like a little baby and more and more like a little boy. And a sweet, smart, affectionate boy at that. He always gives kisses when he's asked for them (for a while, when I asked for a kiss, he'd headbutt me instead. That's since stopped), and he's also learned how to blow kisses, which is about the sweetest thing ever.

I think I may have decided, though, that I don't want any more kids. Until two days ago, I wanted, like, three or four more. But on Monday I took dinner to a friend of mine with a one-week-old. Just observing a newborn and a toddler in the same room together -- even though they aren't both mine -- exhausted me. I'm not sure I could take care of a newborn and a toddler and keep my sanity at the same time. Lord bless my friends Shelly, who has two little ones, and Tasha, who has a toddler and babysits her neighbor's newborn. I think I might be happy with just Isaac. One might just be the perfect number.