My husband has been taking over the bedtime routine on Monday night so that I can go to a ballet class. Even though getting there and getting started at the barre is a bit like kicking an old rusty Chevy truck into gear, I leave there floating and it seems like I float all the way home on a cloud.
This past Monday was especially good one since I managed to finish dinner for the guys before leaving. That meant I floated into a home full of welcoming dinner smells. I could still hear stirrings in Oran’s room, so he wasn’t quite sleeping yet. I tiptoed around, but a sneeze erupted. Then in my hungry state, I couldn’t wait to heat up some food, and the microwave beeped.
But it didn’t seem to throw a wrench in the routine. Michael emerged from the room soon after. Later, he said “I have to tell you this. You know when you came home earlier and I was in the room with Oran? He was just about asleep on my shoulder when you sneezed.” (I thought he was going to reprimand me for sneezing.)
“He turned and said ‘Bless you Mama’ Then the microwaved beeped and he lifted his head and said ‘Mama make it, make it mama.”
Why does it make your heart skip a beat when you hear this kind of commentary from a 17-month-old? Perhaps because you start to see it’s all coming together for him, he not only knows words but is developing this love for finding words and using them in context.