Then he said, "Now, is she making any repeating sounds? Like babababa, dadadada, pppppp?"
"Nope," I replied with a smile on my face, "She just coos and aahs happily."
"Well, that's no big deal.", he said, "She just might fall into that camp of babies who talk a little later."
And then he went on about the exam, informing me that she is developmentally ready to start trying any food I'd like to give her, except honey. "Scrambled eggs with no salt is one of the best foods for a human." he said. "You can give her bits of cheese, or hand her a pizza crust or a bit of toast, steamed carrots and green beans, you know just see what she does."
Meanwhile, I'm all like "WHADDA YOU MEAN SHE MIGHT TALK A LITTLE LATER?!?!?!?!"
I am an exceedingly verbal person. Verbal is my thing. Seriously, I talked in complete sentences at 18 months old. I've always tested high in reading and reading comprehension. I have a BA in English for cripes sake. I wrote papers on random topics for four years.
It never crossed my mind that Evie might not take after me in that area. I just assumed she would.
So I am freaking out in my head, retracing the last six months of Evie's life, cursing myself for all the times I spent just holding her looking at her and smiling at her! I should have been talking to her! I was freaking out so bad I didn't mention it to anyone.
I didn't say anything to Dr. Fesmire because he had just finished commenting on how laid back of a mom I am and how, knowing me, that surprised him (he was my pediatrician too).
So I just finished the appointment, soothed Evie after her shots and went home.
Thursday and Friday I made it a point to talk to Evie more. Still nothing but oooos and aaaaahs and the occasional meeeeeeh.
Saturday I was rocking her a little before her morning nap, talking to her and drinking in her adorable baby-ness. I wanted to snuggle; she wanted to crane her head over the side of the glider to see goodness only knows what, and all of a sudden she turned to me with an indignant look on her face and there it was, "Dididididididi. Dadadadadadadadaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
It's her new favorite, this repeating consonant thing.
And I learned my lesson too. Evie's not me. She's not her father, and as Dr. Fesmire so rightly said, "She's writing her own story". Oh and also, be careful what you wish for, that hollering of DADADADADADAAAAAAAAAAAAA from the other room, can be a wee bit grating! :)
Also, I linked up one of my favorite posts for Toddle Along Tuesday today. The theme is your favorite things about your child. I couldn't pick just one, so I did my favorite time spent with her.
Check it out and link up!