I have a new skill. It’s called ‘identifying things.’ I sit in the back seat, snugly buckled into my car seat, holding on to Augie Dogie, and I identify things as they go past. I call them out, like this:
I can tell you that I am driving around in a silver Prius, but it comes out more like silverpriuscar.
When I get home I expect a snack, and I like to turn on all the lights, every one I can reach, because I can reach them now. I will cry hard if you tell me not to turn on the lights, even if you explain that it’s a waste of energy, that it gets hot when all the lights are on, or any other reason. I want those lights on, get it? All of them. All the lights go ON, dad. (In case my father is reading this.)
When I walk down the stairs to go out of our apartment there is a large window. Originally, when I first saw it, I called out ‘octagon!’ But I was mistaken. It is a hexagon. I don’t make that mistake any more.
I have started reading my stories back to my parents. Goodnight moon. The light is on. The old lady is whispering hush. Gus plants a seed. Clifford has a field day. I ask for books by name. I know the names of shapes, not just hexagons and windows.
I have started telling the cat what to do. Because I can.
Off the couch!
It doesn’t matter if he is really doing anything. He appears to listen to me even when he is not on the couch.
I know other names too, people I met after I flew on the airplane. But most of all I think I like calling out names of things when we drive. We listen to music, too, and I know what kind.
I know things in books and also colors.
Check back soon. I will know even more words. You can read me a story and I will tell you a story. But you have to sit still. Don’t spill any almond milk on me.