Alice has left the realm of baby babble and now surprises us every day with all that she has to say.
After her bath, she charges into her room, antsy to play a round of her Curious George matching game. "Come on, Matt!" she commands.
"Who is dat?" she asks, while pointing to different pictures of animals in her books. Over and over and over.
While she has mastered a lot of great words and phrases, Matt and I have joked that her intonation often makes her sound like a computer program. Lots of odd pauses and misplaced emphasis.
Losing and finding things is thrilling business over here. First we go through a few rounds of "Where is? I no knoooooow." A tentative explanation is offered: "back here" (pointing to somewhere in the house). Then, the object in question is searched for, and when found, enthusiastic exclamations of "I find IT!" "I find IT!" are followed up with hand clapping and smiles. We "lose" a lot of things around here.
If I pour myself a glass of juice or get out a snack, you can bet that within a few seconds she'll be standing at my feet, looking up and pleading, "I too? I too?"
The other day I put her down for a nap and was on the computer right outside her door, listening to her playing and chatting herself to sleep. She kept shouting, "My turn! My turn!" as if practicing for her post-nap playtime with the neighbors.
Anytime that Matt or I try to help her do something like put on her shoes without letting her try it on her own first, you can bet that our efforts will be pushed away with an adamant "I dood it. I dood it." After a few minutes of struggling with the task, we're usually called back with a distressed "Help, Dad?" or "Help, Mom?"
She has finally started to say the phrase "thank you," and now that she's started, she fits it in whenever she can. Anytime I comply with her request for a snack or drink, my efforts are acknowledged with a hearty "sank you, Mom." If I ask her to pass me something, she'll hand over the object with a solemn "sank you." When I'm finally finished changing her diaper, no matter how wildly she screamed and writhed while I was doing the job, she hops off the changing table with a quick "sank you" as she runs off, finally free to continue what she was doing.
Often when Matt and I go to get Alice in the morning or after a nap, we ask her if she had a good sleep and whether she had any dreams. I didn't think she knew what dreams were yet, but was hoping that one day she'd regale us with stories of what went on in her head while she slept.
This morning, as I was changing her out of her pajamas, we had the following conversation:
"Did you have a good sleep, Alice?"
"You had a dream? What was it about?"
"You were playing soccer? Wow!" Did you kick the ball?"
"Did you score a goal?"
"Was anyone cheering for you? Did they say, 'Go Alice! Yaay Alice'?"