Tuesday, July 23, 2013

He speaks

So, turns out if you spend some one-on-one time with Charlie, he will spit out words rapid fire. Words you had no idea he knew. No idea. None. 

Case in point, one day last week Charlie accompanied me outside to hang some laundry on the clothesline. As I hung the items, I suddenly realized that he was trying to get my attention.

"Grash," he said, pointing to the ground. "Grash."

"Oh my gosh, that's right, Charlie! That is grass. Good job, buddy!"

Encouraged, he ran over to my parents' garden shed and pointed at the siding. "House. House. House."

"Yes, Charlie! Yes, that is a house!"

And then, I swept him up and hugged him. I dare say, we had a moment. Me marveling at how awesome it is when kids are learning how to speak, and him soaking up the attention. (We'll forget the part where I questioned if Charlie had been saying these words for weeks, and I was just too distracted to notice.)

I resumed my laundry duties, and as Charlie alternated between the house and the grass, I threw in some other doozies like tree, sky, plant and towel. He didn't seem to keen on giving any of those a go, but that's fine.

Fast forward to yesterday. The kids both took long naps, so I was well into dinner preparation by the time they finally awoke. Charlie hung out in the kitchen with me while we waited for Mary Clare to emerge from her room. As I mixed up the cucumber salad, I felt Charlie tug at the side of my shorts.

"Poppet," he said, beaming up at me. "Poppet."

Again, I dropped what I was doing and lavished praise upon him.

"That's right. That's a pocket. Good job, buddy."

More hugging, grinning and marveling ensued.

Charlie obviously has more words in his arsenal besides grass, house, pocket and what I covered in his second birthday post, and his pronunciation (beep-ch for beach) and occasional French accent are delightful as ever. So, I don't know what it was in particular that struck me, but there was something about our two little encounters. Like I said, they amazed me and shamed me, all at the same time. But shamed me in a good way, if that makes any sense. Like, "Hey, lady, I am picking stuff up left and right over here, so pay attention. And whatever you do, don't drop the F-bomb, because I will definitely seize on that one and say it on repeat. In church."

1 comment:

  1. Go Charlie! Such sweet moments.

    Now, is it 1890 in Illinois? Hanging clothes on the clothesline? Was this before or after darning the socks?


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