Mama? That’s my name, don’t wear it out.

For months I was waiting on my little girl to say something, anything, other than ‘baa’.  She uses it in a variety of ways, short baa, long baaaaaaaa, high pitched, whiny, happy.  All presumably mean something quite different to her.  Sometimes she’ll say ‘baa’ and point at something with a look of determination on her face.  Or she will scream it at glass-shattering volume right into the cat’s ear.

And then, one day, she moved on to ‘da’.  Gutted.  Typical that I carry her for 9 months, push her out and then devote 13 months tending to her every need 24/7….and she rewards me with saying ‘da’.  Now, I know that a ‘d’ is easier to pronounce than a ‘m’ noise so I gave her the benefit of the doubt.

Anyway, after weeks of following her around and saying ‘maaaaammmmmmmmmmaaaaaaaaaaa’ in the hope that she’d copy….she did!  I actually cried.  “Thank goodness” I thought “finally she has recognised me and with just that one noise she is thanking me for everything and ackowledging that I, her mother, am the best person in the whole world”.

Here we are a few weeks on and the novelty has gone.  She’s teething (again) and this time it’s the bad boys, the molars.  So all day long all I hear is “maaaaamaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa”, usually accompanied by the bottom lip pouting and her literally hanging from my leg.  I have found the best way to stop the tears and moaning is to do an impression, right back at her.  When confronted with me sticking my lip out and crying “maaaaamaaaaaaaaaaa”, she stops and laughs.

Between the two of us, this is really the only noise happening in this house this week.  Apart from the noise of the kettle for my 14th caffeinated drink of the day and the noise of me opening another Calpol bottle.

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