She speaks
Rachel may only be 3 months old, but she has a lot to say. She coo’s all the time. She’s getting out consonants as well as vowels. Every day I hold her in my arms and rub her under her chin. That’s when she “talks” the most. So much to say. I coo back. Apparently that encourages language development. Plus, it’s cute and silly. “A-gggah!” seems to be a favorite for us. She frequently says “meh”, but at times that indicate she doesn’t know what it means. She’s a baby, so she should probably stay away from words as dismissive as that anyway. She’ll have much more to “meh” about in her teenage years.
I’m trying to be careful about what I tell her. I don’t want to just call her a pretty baby. Of course, to me she’s the prettiest baby that ever was, but that’s not the point. I want to call her smart and strong as well. I want her to know that she truly can be anything she wants to be. That I just want her to be the very best Rachel, without any expectations, because I love who she is. Period.
It’s easy to call her strong because she really is. If I let her hold my pinkies, she can stand. She’s starting to master sitting up. She can hold on to my hair with some sort of death grip (fun for her, not for me). Each little achievement is exciting in a way that I never imagined. She’s a person, and she’s a part of me.
We took Rachel to Brasserie Beck on Saturday night. We went early in an attempt to NOT interrupt everyone else’s date night. That didn’t work completely, but mostly because Rachel got hungry. Well, it’s only fair, everyone was eating but her I suppose. Anyway, so that the whole dining room didn’t have to hear her scream, I fed her at the bar, and took her for a walk to see the open kitchen. Bright lights, sparkling pots and pans and lots of movement made for a great distration. The executive chef, the waitstaff, and the hostesses all came over to compliment Rachel. It felt good to have so many people admire my child. She stood on the oyster bar. Good girl.
Right now it’s exciting to hear her begin to talk, move and grow. I hope I still feel the same way when she’s running in circles around the kitchen, screaming “mommy”, repeatedly, at the top of her lungs, and banging into the furniture as she goes.