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Moons and busters

Since Daughter’s birthday is right on the horizon I’ve been doing some reflecting on her growth. I’m not sure why 9 feels like a big birthday to me. It may have something to do with fourth grade being my favorite or it’s just the idea that she’s one step closer to the adulthood that I see in my nieces and nephews. No matter why, it’s been giving me pause. While walking around outside last night she said something that got me thinking about her as a talker and what her progression has been. 

Parents anticipate the speaking of their children with such anxiousness and excitement. I was no different. What will her first word be? What will she want to talk about? What amazing things will she have to say? I’ve not been disappointed. 

Daughter’s first word was book, which was a pretty powerful indicator of things to come. She quickly became a child who asked questions rather constantly and is now one who simply talks nonstop. She wonders everything and explains how she is feeling and what she is thinking without ever being asked. She’s constantly communicating. As she grows though, something I know I will miss is the names she gave to things as a little one that are fading away for their “correct” terminology. 

Parents have the responsibility of correcting the speech of their children, but I bet you most parents will admit to keeping a few misspoken words unattended simply because they’re adorable. They fade over time as the child grows, I’ve learned, and there’s a melancholy sadness about it for me. Blisters on the foot are no longer foot busters and behind the knee is simply that, no longer is it a leg pit. Alligators and crocodiles have their own identities instead of being lumped into the category of crocodigillators. I’m Mom or Mommy, occasionally still Mama, but never Mymama anymore. 

But last night, at almost 9 big, wise years, there was still a Cheshire Cat moon. I hope that one stays with her, and I hope her wonder stays with me. 

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