Yakity Yak

When Max first started talking, I made lists of all the words he could say, both for myself to gloat over his genius-ness and so that I would have a precise answer when his pediatrician asked about his language development (but mostly for myself to gloat over). I have had to abandon the lists, however, because he simply knows too many words now for me to keep track of. (I can gloat without the list, though, so don't you worry.) Even more impressive than the sheer size of the vocabulary, though, is how he strings words together. He will casually drop sentences like, "Maggie cry. Mama Maggie up?", or "Eat broccoli, please?" into the conversation, and I am floored. (Yep, he is a loving and attentive brother, and he even likes broccoli. He is a golden child, and most people wish he were theirs, but he's not. He's mine. See how I gloat with no list?) Mind you, we are also getting the occasional sentence like, "No, Mama. No bath. Max mad, Mama!" or worse, "Uh-oh, Mama. Dada? Ewww. Uh-oh." Even these troubling phrases, however, are made cuter by Max's adorable little voice and unique pronunciation. After nearly two years of guessing, we now get to actually know what is going on in that giant head, and it is an ever-absorbing spectacle.