Oliver now loves his nuk for two reasons. The first for obvious reasons of comfort and security, to get him to sleep or keep him content for just that much longer in a church service.
The second reason is that he thinks it makes him talk. He must have started to vocalize with the nuk halfway in his mouth one day, creating consonants previously unexplored. So now he treats it as a kind of speaking valve, positioning it on its side and giving it chomp after chomp, all the while singing his little baby songs.
Which is cute during the day time. But when we settle in to our nursery glider for night-night, armed with a blankie or a lovie, and then the nuk goes in...the jibber-jabber begins. The poor kid doesn't know what to do. He rubs his eyes, then rubs his eyes some more, yawns and yawns, turns his head into me, but feels like he has to tell a story as he is also snuggling up with his plastic little microphone.
I'm watching Finding Nemo as I type, the part where Dori insists she can speak whale. "Hoooowwww aaaarrrreee yyyoooooooouuuuuuu...." Maybe I should take a lesson from Pixar, and when bedtime rolls around tonight, tell Ollie to "gooooooooo tooooo sleeeeeeepgagagagbeeebababababapppbbbbtawahwahwwah."
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