The Things You Say

We've all heard that kids say the darnedest things, but until I had the opportunity to watch my own small human develop language, I'm not sure I really appreciate the hilarity of what actually comes out of their mouths.

We've had some real gems in the last month or so since Bella's language really accelerated from single words and commands into full sentences, made up songs and stories, even jokes.

In an effort to record and remember the amazing things she says, I give you my latest series, The Things You Say.

About a month ago I was getting her dressed before daycare. We always talk about her outfit, name the articles of clothing. I ask her what colour her socks are, or what's on her shirt. Things like that. This particular morning, I was putting her in a polka-dotted long-sleeved shirt:

Me to Bella: "What's on your shirt?"
Bella to me: "Coconuts!"

Another morning, just a few days ago. Again, getting dressed. This time we're naming body parts. She's working her way down my arms:

"Mommy's arms, Mommy's elbows, Mommy's hands, Mommy's fingers, Mommy's fingernails..." A pause while she stares at my hands intently, searching for the right word... "Mommy's nickles!"

I laughed and corrected her. "Close Bella, but those are called knuckles."

This morning, the whole family is lying in bed while Bella drinks her morning bottle. She's sitting between us, looking from one of us to the other, chattering away, again naming body parts. Suddenly she points to Crown's bare chest and smiles.

Bella to us, in a very proud voice: "Daddy's knuckles!"
Me, confused for just a second before cracking up: "Almost Bella, but those are nipples."

In the Morning

Nobody in my family is a morning person. Not a single one of us, not even the dog. As such, I was a little worried when I went back to work and took over the "morning duties," which include getting myself up, showered, dressed and ready and then getting Bella up, dressed, fed and bundled. Then I walk her up to daycare before starting my own commute to the office.

Surprisingly, now that I've been back to work for just over a year, my mornings with Bella have become my favourite part of the day. We usually have a good hour together, just she and I, and there's nothing more beautiful to me than seeing her sleepy face when I go in to wake her up.

Bella wakes up just like me, hair everywhere, face a little puffy and a lot pouty, slightly demented with the fogginess of early morning. She's usually crusty but in a funny way, quick to fight me on every detail, but always just a tickle away from hard-earned giggle fit. I love how she smiles and chats to herself while enjoying her morning bottle in my bed, while I try on outfits and put on my face.

I love picking out her outfit for the day and take immense pleasure in all her tiny adorable fashions. I am going to be really sad the day she stops letting me help her choose her clothes.

I have to admit, that while I love our morning ritual together, the pleasure ends quickly once we're done upstairs and have to head downstairs for breakfast. This part of the routine always feels rushed. My girl likes to eat slowly while wandering about and there's no time for dawdling once we hit the kitchen portion of our morning. I always have one eye on the clock and she always knows it.

That's not to say that we don't have struggles upstairs too. Oh. WE HAVE SOME STRUGGLES. It's just that while we're upstairs the day is still young and fresh, and the ticking clock is still out of sight. Her feisty attitude is hard not to love when she's traipsing around in footy pajamas and bedhead. Her screams and disagreements are met with my own smiles and hugs. It's our special, private time of day, and despite the struggles I'll treasure our mornings together for as long as the sun does rise.