“Ma-ma has to go find ba-ba, OK, Wa-Wa?” I ask, as Jude grins back up at me, exposing two brilliantly white nubs of teeth on the top gum.
We’ve begun speaking in Baby Tongue, a mongrel language, bred by Jude’s very limited vocabulary and, of course, English.
“Da-da go with Wa-wa!” Matt exclaims.
“Da-da, ma-ma, wa-wa,” Jude chants, clapping his hands, before lunging for his bottle, ba-ba.
With only three “words”, we certainly do try our best to communicate with Jude even as the Teach Your Baby Sign Language book sits, collecting dust.
There’s also the flashcard method as seen on Montel, Opera and the other daytime networks aimed at paranoid housewives.
You buy these flashcards for $14.99 that supposedly help speed up the learning, speaking and reading process. Charts demonstrate the “rapidly closing window of opportunity” for learning and you can even watch a video of a nine-month old pointing to his body parts and objects around the house. The proud mother of a two-year-old girl says her daughter is already reading at a first grade level and may be eligible to skip a grade. The little girl sits prettily on a couch, reminding me of beauty queen pageant contestants whose mothers duct-tape their daughter’s waists to appear curvy.
For me, I’m in no rush to accelerate Jude’s learning achievement track. Rather, if he’s happy on the floor, exploring everything in sight, eating most everything that touches his lips during meal times and loves interacting and being read to, then he’s great in my book.
I’m perfectly happy watching him learn to feed himself a bottle without necessarily knowing how to spell B-O-T-T-L-E in French and English or playing Peek-a-boo with the car seat cover.
His achievements, big and small make me proud. In fact, just last week, he received two vaccines, one of which was notorious for causing pain. As our favorite nurse Maureen crossed his pudgy sausage-linked legs, and the needle entered, Jude merely puckered his lips. With the second shot, he held his gaze on Maureen and didn’t so much as bat an eye. Minutes later, he was in her arms, mouth-kissing and cuddling, oblivious to the matching band-aids on either thigh.
These past few days have been filled with good-byes as we’re officially Oregon residents as of the 26th. Jude was definitely a good sport as Ma-ma toted him along to NYC to say goodbye to all his doting Aunties, then tried drinking Erin and my beer on the train ride back to CT.
Marnie (Matt’s maternal Grandmother) threw us a going-away dinner and plenty family members wished us luck on our journey before we took an additional trip back to Pawling in a UHAUL to deliver the rest of the borrowed furniture.
Between packing, friends stopped by and we additionally visited Becky in the hospital, New Jersey for Christine’s baby shower and Bethel to meet Rosie’s new baby girl.
By yesterday, I was quite frankly relieved to board the plane with Jude to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. Jude sucked down some apple juice before passing out, strapped to his seat, legs and arms sprawled like a star-fish.
Upon arrival, Grandpa lunged down the terminal, baby in arms, like something out of PreFontaine. We’re grateful for a little R&R before Portland…