Joshua and I have been having conversations lately. Well, okay, not conversations in the normal sense of the word, but still . . . They go something like this,
"Dee, dee, dee" (Which means birdie, birdie, birdie.)
"Yes, Joshua, those are birds. Good job."
"Dee, dee, dee" ( . . . same thing . . . )
"No, Joshua, those are [insert word here]." You have various words to choose from at this point. Flowers, trees, telephone posts and fish would be appropriate. "But I can see how those look like birdies to you," is my typical response. Even in this insignificant, everyday conversation, it's so hard to know what to say. I don't think that Joshua will actually grow up thinking that the fish and flowers really are birds . . . but then again, I don't want to stifle his creativity and inquisitiveness by always telling him that he's wrong. Do kids even attach a stigma to being wrong at this age? Probably not, but since I'm not sure when that begins, I'm wary. Sometimes I'll answer, "Yes, those cicadas do look like birdies, don't they," and even as I say it, I know it's a copout. Fortunately for me, my son doesn't analyze every little thing I say (yet)!
And speaking of conversations, Joshua's vocabulary is growing by leaps and bounds lately! Here are the words he can sign now - more, all done, cheese, cracker, pear, milk, cereal, book, home, bath, please, bird, dog, hot . . . quite an extensive list, isn't it? We stopped by the library today to check out a couple of signing videos, since he can watch and recognize some of the signs now. What a neat concept it is, to teach him these words and watch as he attaches a meaning to them. Even neater is that he can tell us things (beyond the normal baby "grunt and point" method of communication, that is). We've been taking long evening walks, and in Joshua's amazing imagination, he sees birds and dogs absolutely everywhere!
Our evening walks are another thing. It turns out that Joshua loves to walk outside. (Holding a steadying hand, of course.) We'll walk for 45 minutes, first on the grass, then the sidewalk, then back and forth again. The time flies, and we don't get very far at all, but it's a wonderful time. We collect rocks, step on cracks just to see what they feel like, and watch as the butterflies hover around the bushes. We try to go up every staircase we come to ("No, Joshua, these aren't the stairs that take us home,") and stand at the pool gate to watch for ten minutes. We play with the sprinkler heads, and collect more rocks, test the rocks as a walking surface, and then it's time to come home. This is the hardest part, since Joshua never wants the walks to end. His poor little heartbroken self wails at having to be inside on the carpet, instead of outside among the ants. He's an outdoorsman at heart, I think, and I can't wait until we can start camping and hiking with him. Then again, that will mean that he's growing up, and I also want him to stay just like he is right now forever, too. It's a catch-22, the hope for the future and the beauty of right now, isn't it? Guess that means we'll have to take each day as it comes and not be too sad when one stage is gone, because the excitement of a new stage is to come. It's easier said than done, though.
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