Day 459: Hittin' the road
The home renovation project is moving into phase 348 and so I am packing up Maddie and getting the hell out of Dodge, as they say. Who says that, anyways? Does anybody, really? In any case, just the thought of the little she-monster knee deep in paint and plaster is enough to give me a migraine. She, on the other hand, would love it I am sure. So I took a couple weeks' holidays and am abandoning poor Fernando to do the hard labour while Maddie and I lounge in our bathing suits on the beach. I'm a kind and loving wife, what can I say?
We are going to take the time to bond, to play, to mess about in the dirt and sand, and hopefully to learn a damn word or two! Because that's right, Mads has yet to say a single word. No, not mama, not dada. Not bye or ball or up or book or any of the other one-syllable charmers many toddlers are throwing about by now. There was a day, about a month ago, when we thought she was saying duck. It was more like "duh" but it was in the general direction of a group of ducks at the park, so we were fairly certain that this was the first of what was sure to be an onslaught of communication. Until we got home and suddenly the dog, the flowers, the barbecue and the chesterfield were all "duh."
Our days are filled with one utterance, repeated over and over again. "Dat!" Which, sure, I suppose you could say means "that." From the time she wakes up to the time she hits the sack at night, every minute it seems is filled with the sound of "dat!" She points at me: "Dat!" She points at her milk: "Dat!" She points at the tv: "Dat!" The mailbox: "Dat!" The stove: "Dat!" The box of wine in the fridge: "Dat!" You get the picture. It is endless. And each time we tell her what it is, and she nods her little head as if to say, "That's right, mom, that's a tv." And then she moves onto the next item, apparently bizarrely devoted to testing our knowledge of basic household vocabulary.
So while we are immersing ourself in nature and, hopefully, language, we will be awol from the blog. Happy & hot summer days to everyone till our return!
We are going to take the time to bond, to play, to mess about in the dirt and sand, and hopefully to learn a damn word or two! Because that's right, Mads has yet to say a single word. No, not mama, not dada. Not bye or ball or up or book or any of the other one-syllable charmers many toddlers are throwing about by now. There was a day, about a month ago, when we thought she was saying duck. It was more like "duh" but it was in the general direction of a group of ducks at the park, so we were fairly certain that this was the first of what was sure to be an onslaught of communication. Until we got home and suddenly the dog, the flowers, the barbecue and the chesterfield were all "duh."
Our days are filled with one utterance, repeated over and over again. "Dat!" Which, sure, I suppose you could say means "that." From the time she wakes up to the time she hits the sack at night, every minute it seems is filled with the sound of "dat!" She points at me: "Dat!" She points at her milk: "Dat!" She points at the tv: "Dat!" The mailbox: "Dat!" The stove: "Dat!" The box of wine in the fridge: "Dat!" You get the picture. It is endless. And each time we tell her what it is, and she nods her little head as if to say, "That's right, mom, that's a tv." And then she moves onto the next item, apparently bizarrely devoted to testing our knowledge of basic household vocabulary.
So while we are immersing ourself in nature and, hopefully, language, we will be awol from the blog. Happy & hot summer days to everyone till our return!
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