I hate sounding like the stereotypical dopey parent, oohing and aahing at their child’s every insipid developmental achievement.
But I gotta say, this was pretty cool
This morning, like every morning, we came downstairs to Ani’s nursery soon after waking. And this morning, like most mornings, we were greeted with the joyful sight of our daughter standing in her crib, bouncing and smiling, nearly rapturous at our overdue arrival into her morning. Cheryl and I have gotten into the habit of lingering over these moments; Ani is generally a happy baby, but she’s hardly ever so gleeful as she is in these first moments of our day. So this morning, like many such mornings, we oohed and aahed and generally made fools of ourselves talking to our infant, like many parents like us are wont to do.
But this morning, unlike previous mornings, I took this interaction to the next level.
“Ani,” I said. “Where’s Jim?”
Without hesitation, Ani bent down, picked up Jim the Gingerbread Man (her absolute favorite toy), and handed him to me, her nearly-toothless smile broader than ever.
Pardon the expression, but I nearly lost my shit.
Such a simple thing, this question. And it’s not the first question we’ve posed to her that she’s responded to. “Ani, up?”, accompanied by the requisite two-fingers-pointing-skyward hand signal, elicits near-giddiness as she anticipates the impending lift into the grown-up heavens. We think she’s learning to recognize “Ani, milk?” and “Ani, more?” as well.
But “Ani, where’s Jim?” was a brand new one. And she totally nailed the landing. No hand signals. No pointing.
Count me among the dopey.