Max has increased his vocabulary significantly recently. From the foundation of four basic words (mama, dada, cat, and no), he has built an incomplete but nonetheless effective means of communication. If he wants a ball, or sees a ball, or sees something that reminds him of a ball, he will now forcefully say, "Baow". (Aren't you proud, Aunties? Max has inherited your baseball-loving genes. He most certainly did not get any athletic inclination from either parent.) He can now say 'yeah' as well as 'no', and can make a variety of animal noises -- 'baba' (for a sheep), 'naynay' (for a horse), 'moomoo' (for a cow), and an unwritable puckering of the lips that means a fish. His newest and most beloved words, however, are "more", and "done". These are words that make things happen, and Max has been cheerfully abusing his power ever since he learned them. All through dinner now, Max holds up his cup and says "mo ... mo... mo..." until more drink comes his way, at which point he throws the cup on the ground and says, "done. All done. Done. Done...." and etc. Oh, he'll keep saying it until you get the point and take action, so don't even worry that you'll miss it. Yesterday, he said his first sentence. When Ian was getting out of the car to go to work, Max looked out the window at his retreating father and said sadly, "Mo Dada. Mo Dada". Since I could not deliver more Dada until that night, it was kind of a long car ride home. The very most annoying thing of all, though, is Max's combining his love of saying 'more' with his love of listening to music, and adding to that his love of pushing buttons. His new favorite thing in the world is to stand by the stereo and say "mo. mo. mo. mo. mo. mo. mo." until someone turns the stereo on. The music will then delight him for about ten seconds, until he remembers that he loves pushing the button that turns the CD off. After he has pushed it, he will look over at whatever adult is nearest and say, "mo. mo. mo. mo. mo." If you repeat the above sequence of events about eighty-seven times, you will be able to paint yourself an accurate picture of my day.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Hey DJ
Max has increased his vocabulary significantly recently. From the foundation of four basic words (mama, dada, cat, and no), he has built an incomplete but nonetheless effective means of communication. If he wants a ball, or sees a ball, or sees something that reminds him of a ball, he will now forcefully say, "Baow". (Aren't you proud, Aunties? Max has inherited your baseball-loving genes. He most certainly did not get any athletic inclination from either parent.) He can now say 'yeah' as well as 'no', and can make a variety of animal noises -- 'baba' (for a sheep), 'naynay' (for a horse), 'moomoo' (for a cow), and an unwritable puckering of the lips that means a fish. His newest and most beloved words, however, are "more", and "done". These are words that make things happen, and Max has been cheerfully abusing his power ever since he learned them. All through dinner now, Max holds up his cup and says "mo ... mo... mo..." until more drink comes his way, at which point he throws the cup on the ground and says, "done. All done. Done. Done...." and etc. Oh, he'll keep saying it until you get the point and take action, so don't even worry that you'll miss it. Yesterday, he said his first sentence. When Ian was getting out of the car to go to work, Max looked out the window at his retreating father and said sadly, "Mo Dada. Mo Dada". Since I could not deliver more Dada until that night, it was kind of a long car ride home. The very most annoying thing of all, though, is Max's combining his love of saying 'more' with his love of listening to music, and adding to that his love of pushing buttons. His new favorite thing in the world is to stand by the stereo and say "mo. mo. mo. mo. mo. mo. mo." until someone turns the stereo on. The music will then delight him for about ten seconds, until he remembers that he loves pushing the button that turns the CD off. After he has pushed it, he will look over at whatever adult is nearest and say, "mo. mo. mo. mo. mo." If you repeat the above sequence of events about eighty-seven times, you will be able to paint yourself an accurate picture of my day.
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2 comments:
is he listening to "rump shaker"?
Could be. It doesn't actually even matter what he is listening to, since he turns it off every other note anyway.
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