After learning how to say "dada" last week, Oliver added to his dictionary, "mama." So there. Oh, okay, it's more like "mamamamammmmmmmmmmmmmmma." But the next day, he went on to his "b"s. "Bababa. Ba." Allright, so he's not identifying us as his Dada and Mama. Lest we also be sheep.
He really is learning something every day. If it's not a new consonant, it's learning to repeat something, how to roll in a new direction, how to make us fall in love with him even more when we didn't think it possible.
One of my favorite new skills of Oliver's is the hug and kiss. The warmth and peace that washes through me when his little arms reach up over my shoulders, fingers tickling at the back of my neck, make anything that happened in my day okay.
The moment turns comical, though, when he turns his gaping mouth to my cheek, my chin, my nose, or my own mouth. His drool then cascades down my own face, and his little tongue explores its contours. And his new trick today: he blows raspberries. He takes a little gasp, hums, and plants a wet zerbert until I'm giggling like I'm eight months old.
He's probably getting back at us for all of the times we thought it was cute to put our spitty mouths all over his tummy, cheeks and feet. In which case, this is just the beginning. It may be time to shop for our own bibs.
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