After so many long months of baby gurgles, crying, and sober silence, my daughter has become a chatterbox. Whereas previously I had to guess and infer, now she can let me know what's on her mind (sometimes a little too accurately).
Bee has this annoying tendency to wake up about ten minutes before our alarm and start calling Mommeeee at increasing volume and pitch until I go rescue her from her crib. Sure enough, at 5:20 this morning she was up and ready to go. I tossed her into my bed and said, "Wake up Daddy." She climbed all over him saying, "Hey Daddy, hey. Morning!"
I crawled back into my side of the bed, clinging to the covers, hoping for a few more minutes of sleep. It was not to be. Bee scooted over to my side and asked me very seriously, "Mommy? Friday? Friday?" "No Baby, it's Tuesday, Friday's not for a couple more days," I said.
Her question really hit me in the gut. I realized that she's hoping for Friday because she knows its the start of the weekend and David and I are home. A tidal wave of working-mommy guilt followed. But more than the guilt I was amazed at the question. That she knew to ask. She has a dozen little questions or statements just like that every day. Right now, watching Bee acquire language is the coolest thing about being a parent.
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