At 10 months old, the Monkey is starting to talk. OK, take that back. He’s been talking for about two months now, but its mostly babble. He only has three REAL words that he uses right now: Dada, MaMa, and “yeah”. (We also think he’s working on “no” but so far it usually sounds like “nuh“.)
Yes, you read that correctly, “yeah.” As in, “Do you want this binkie?” (silence.) “How about THIS one?”
“Yeah!” These are accompanied by giant smiles, lunging, and laughing.
The kid is totally stoked about being able to get his message across. Either that, or he’s totally found a new way to mess with us. For example, last night while eating his dinner, the Monkey pushed his spoon away and pointed toward something on the floor in the living room. “EEEEEEEEEEEE!”
I tapped his tray to get his attention. Once his eyes lifted to mine, I asked: “What do you want?”
He smiled and pointed toward the floor, “EH!”
Of course, the area he was pointing to had about 50 toys in it. So I got off my chair and picked up the closest toy. “Is this what you want?”
Me: “How about this?”
Monkey: “Nuh! Nuh!”
Me: “Ummm … this one?”
Me: “Well, you’re going to have to expand your vocabulary then, son. I don’t know what you want.”
Monkey: “EH! EH! EH!” (Pointing again)
Me: “Do you want your Elmo book?”
Monkey: “Yeah!” (Cue smiles and lunging.)
We were then subjected to about 20 minutes of a musical Elmo book. But it distracted him, kept him happy, and he ate better than usual because of it.
After dinner, the Monkey wanted to see the dancing hamsters. His love for the dancing hamsters knows no bounds. But that’s a different post entirely. Anyway, the Hubbs has our two dancing hamsters in his office (aka “man room). Even if the hamsters weren’t there, the Monkey would love that room. Its filled with bobbleheads, baseballs, action figures, Godzilla toys from Japan. All the goofy, random things my husband loves and wants to keep safe. All the things that our son wants to eat and drool over.
But anyway, the Monkey makes a beeline for the hamsters, pulls himself up on the Hubbs‘ desk, and points at them, babbling.
“You want the hamsters?”
So I sit in the chair and pull the Monkey onto my lap.
“OK, which one do you want to hear first?” The Monkey points to “Dr. Love” and we listen to the hamster screech out “Doctor, doctor/ gimmie the news/ I got a/ bad case of loving you!” Then, its the rocker hamster with “I want you to want me”.
After about three rounds of this, he points at the computer. He wants the “hamster song” and his “gummy bear” songs.
In all, this process takes about a half hour every night. It doesn’t matter which parent does it with him, but he HAS to have it. One of my favorite things is to see the Monkey reclined on the Hubb’s lap against his chest, watching another YouTube video. When the Hubbs‘ sees me, he’ll usually mouth “kill me now”. I think we both have all the songs memorized by now.
Later that night, as we were settling in for snuggles and bed, I gave him a choice of two binkies. “Which one do you want?” I whispered, holding them both out with one hand. He thought about it, his index finger tapped his mouth and his brows furrowed. This was obviously a big decision. A split second later a little hand shot out, lightning fast, and chose the medium-length binkie, which he promptly popped into his mouth.
We sat in our glider, and I propped the nursing pillow under him. The Monkey squirmed, popped the binkie out and babbled at me, waving the binkie frantically in the air with one hand while pawing at my shirt with the other.
“Hang on, hang on …” I mumble.
“Mama! boo-ugh! Muh! Muh!”
“Do you want boobies?” I ask him, laying him down.
I’m going to have a hard time explaining that one to the in-laws.