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2 minute long, one sided gibberish conversations

Babe is getting demanding. A finger-waving toddler is a-brewing coffee after her same wiggly finger has become a Jura machine button-pusher. A giggling attention whore, she is, (and Yoda’s apprentice, apparently, I am). God forbid any of us take 2 minutes to pee or simply wash our hands without her. Why wouldn’t we think of her? How could we possibly neglect her need to be touched and touching every minute of every day, just to complete our necessary bodily functions. Why wouldn’t we just allow our colons to clog and voluntarily infect our bladders for her. Isn’t that what unconditional love is? NO!

She has picked up on that word enough to say it clear and often, tickling the remaining nerves that are already overstimulated with boo-bop soundtracks. Those last nerves giggle with her as she begins to fast walk away from me at bath time. So it has begun. The toddler-ing that is. She still hasn’t figured out how to put things back where she found them, and she is quite picky about what she is willing to swallow. If I allowed it, she’d probably prefer to ingest BIC lighters, plastic combs and tiny rubber bands. She has also gotten to the point of breastfeeding that involves both boobs at all times. A twiddler, she is. I thought it was cute at first, but I can’t have both tits out in the grocery store just to satisfy my slap-happy mini human. Yeah, she’s been beating me up, too, and beginning to cry when boundaries are set. Which is not much different from the occasional full grown humans that disrespect mommy’s boundaries.

Promise me y’all won’t call CPS on ya girl, but my babe got tatted. Temporarily. She’s the Bee’s non-existent Knees. Well, according to google, the joint between the tibia and femur does exist for bee’s, just not in the same way human knees. Maybe that means they don’t have knee caps. Neither does babe. She won’t get those until she turns [at least] two years old.

Her language skills are quickly progressing. She’s beginning to combine G’s with B’s, and W’s with K’s, vowels inevitably finding space in between them. These combinations sound like the true beginning of sentences, especially when her little lungs have the incredibly surprising capacity to support and style gibberish sentences that last 2 minutes, minimum. She joins into adult conversation, to which I very proudly recite one of the paradigm shifting phrases that kids dream of saying when they grow up: “This is grown folk talk.” Even in me clearing up the dynamic, she relentlessly continues her conversation whether we’re listening or not. Sometimes I wish I gave less care to what others think of my words, but as a writer, I absolutely do.

I appreciate every single one of y’all for returning to my words when it resonates and providing support to my journey as a mother and a storyteller.

Now lemme put this laptop down and clean up the GameCube game cases that rest on the mint green carpet in the room that babe is forbidden to be in :)

THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU.

Abby xx