Say it Isn't So

Clara, when are you going to talk?  When are we going to hear Momma, Dada, or whatever you manage to get out?  Sure you've been grunting what several have identified as "hi" for a few months now, and I've noticed that you can also grunt out a good "woof woof", especially when George is doing his best to alert the neighborhood to the mailman, UPS, or any other unfamiliar vehicle in view.  You did a great version of a bird today when we were outside, shrieking in an eerily similar way to the blue jays annoying call.  But seriously.  I'm ready for more.  

I can't wait to find out what your voice -- your speaking voice that is -- will sound like.  I can't wait for you to ask questions, say yes, no or whatever else.  I can't wait for you to let me in to a little more of what you are thinking.  We've tried sign language, but you have always just smiled and laughed.  I need more.  I need you to tell me when you're hungry or thirsty.  I want you to tell me "more" or "no", or ow.  

But most of all, I'd like to ask you, what exactly were you thinking when that adorably plump little hand of yours mysteriously dove into an occupied bowl of dog kibble and grabbed a handful?  And then, what did it taste like?