I had absolute responsibility of the wee one this evening as his beloved mama was away making crafty, beautiful things. To temporarily fill the huge gap in his little world, we gardened, ate, and sang for a couple of hours. After a nice bath to wash away the crushed bugs and lord knows what other detritus he had accumulated, we settled down for a little rest and relaxation.
"Mama, mama, mama, mama."
"Mama."
"Mama."
I wasn't going to win this one. I won't even bother writing down what my responses were, because he didn't care one bit what I had to say about the matter of his missing mother.
After he grew tired of failing at matriarchal psychic teleportation through his "Mama" mantra, he resigned himself to reciting numbers and letters for me. This beautiful new trick came about yesterday on a long car ride home, during which time his mother and I were momentarily slack-jawed. He had been reciting numbers and letters along with us, but we had no clue he had stealthily been memorizing their orders. He repeated his performance tonight, and I was sneaky enough to record it.
