Baby A is nine months old. She’s not talking yet, but there are plenty of words she seems to recognize. Her name for instance. And “no;” at which she’ll pause, acknowledge our stuffy parental opinion with an indulgent yet rebellious smile, and resume business. And (this is SO cute!) “pet,” upon which she’ll pet-pet-pet your hair, “dance” upon which she‘ll bop on her butt, and “clean” to which she‘ll use whatever‘s handy to wipe a nearby surface clean.
And she has words too. To be precise, she has a very versatile, “boom-boom.” I think she likes the way it feels in her mouth, so she uses it for everything. Even when she’s feeling lonely in the back seat of the car all by herself and goes boom-boom, waaah-waaah, boom-boom, wah-WAH! We’ll have to talk to her about that; it’s completely unconvincing as a heartrending cry for help. Boom-boom.
That picture of yourself in academic drag you took when people were consistently mistaking you for an undergraduate (because genes, but a...