Catching leaves

Dear Meishka,

You started calling me "Mommy" today.

It was bound to happen eventually. I knew your first word uttered, twice closed lips over double vowels, would be replaced by something a little more grown-up one of these days. But it shocked me nonetheless to hear something other than "Mama" escape your lips as your still baby-round face looked up at me today. I know you're changing all the time, but I'm with you so much that I don't usually notice the moment of metamorphosis. Instead, I look at you one day and--like the trees in our backyard--realize that all your leaves have suddenly fallen and there you stand, transformed and ready for a new season.

But today I caught one of those leaves mid-drop. And it makes me want to catch some others. It hasn't been too long, for instance, that you've been telling stories. In fact, the first one I can remember happened a couple weeks ago after you went with Grandma to feed the horses by her house. They scared you a little, so you watched her finish feeding them from the safety of Grandpa's lap in the car. Then you watched them walk to their barn. When you got home, you were bursting with syntax-free nouns--nay nay, Mandma, walk, num num, barn, papa, bite--punctuated with demonstrations of eating out of hands and emphatic head nodding. You told this story for a good week or more after the event, and we still pretend sometimes that we are mommy and baby "nay nays" snuggling in our barn when you go to sleep at night.

It hasn't been much longer than that that me and Daddy's laughs in the front seat of the car started to be mirrored by canned laughter floating up from the back seat. You understand the language of laughter, if not all the language that accompanies it yet. And you really like being in on the joke. Sometimes you even cover your mouth while fake laughing.

And you definitely know what you want these days--whether it's where my hand should be while I'm lying next to you in bed (on your head, smoothing your hair), where I should sit (right next to you) while we listen to my iPod together, or where the bubbles in the bathtub should go (on both of our chins to make beards).

You're becoming very thoughtful of other people, too. Whenever you ask for a drink of "wawa" from my big cup, you make sure I have a sip of "mok" from your sippy cup in exchange. If you see me getting ready, you walk over to my closet and pick out a pair of shoes for me to wear--often a red flat from two different pairs. Last week we were on an errand and you heard a baby crying. Later that night at home, you said--with a pained look on your face--"baby, cry, waaaaa" (a good impersonation) and seemed generally saddened at the memory.

You even know who you are. When I point to you in the mirror, you say (with a big smile that shows off your cute little teeth) "ME!"

And I'm "Mommy," of course. But I'll always be "Mama" too.

Love,

Probably "Mom" by the time you read this.