Conversation

I am experiencing that startling time when a heretofore uncomprehensable child becomes understandable. Suddenly she spits out words or phrases that make sense. After a long tunnel of nothing but "mom", "dadda", and "thank you", suddenly a whole vista of words opened up before her which she has taken to with alacrity.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the omnipresent baskets of laundry to put away. In toodles the Littlest (aka the Shreiker, which is thankfully ebbing). Toodles is right. She doesn't toddle in the sense of half sure steps with a hitching walk; toodling is more confident than that and there is no hitch. I expect to hear the Jetson's car pppbbbbrrrrrrip! follow her around. Anyway, in toodles the Littlest and imperiously demands "Up!"

I pick her up. She points to a Noah's Ark coat hanger gracing the wall. "Ephelum," she intones with confidence oozing from every pore. I turn my blank stare to her. She gives me a slight frown and tries again with more emphasis, "Ephelum."

"What's that sweetie?" I ask. This was not the response she wanted to elict. Her chubby little finger stabs up at the hanger, "Ephelum. Sistah."

"Oh, elephant!" I exclaim comprehending; the Muralist's predeliction for elephants having boosted comprehension. Once the general vein of topic was established her words were easy enough to pick out: zebra, dog (really a lion), monkey, panda, giraffe and "gill".

"Gill?" I question. I scanned the plack until my eyes lit on Noah. I pointed. "Man, Noah."

The Littlest shook her head, "Gill."

"No, not girl. Man. Boy. Daddy."

She laughed. "Gammpy."

Grandpa indeed.