I made Abby Jane a little brag book of pictures, each one a snapshot of a family member. Mostly, I wanted to make sure she didn't forget my parents and my brother and his family, because we don't see them often enough, but the book also includes pictures of Dave's folks and indeed our little nuclear family, too.
I read somewhere this was a good idea, but I already had in mind to do it long before I knew I would have children, because I remember so clearly a book my mother made for me back in the early 70's. Remember those photo albums where the pages were sticky (and apparently acidic and devastating to photographs and newspaper clippings alike?), so you stuck your pictures on it and you folded a piece of clear plastic over the page to protect them? Well, Mom made me one of those, only it didn't have photographs, just pictures and words she had cut out of magazines. One page would have a picture of Bambi on it, and below the magazine-headline word would be "Deer". (Did she subscribe to Guns & Ammo?) Anyway, she created an entire little learning book for me. I'm told I loved it as a baby, and I certainly love it now. I feel very loved when I think about it.
Now Abby has her little book. It's only pictures for now, but I do intend to create learning pages, too. She already loves it. She says "Buh" for "book," and routinely brings me 4-6 books an evening to be read, sitting in my lap with a very serious and inquisitive look on her face (yay!!!!). This book is no different. She sits in my lap, and helps me turn the pages to look at herself, R, S, Grammy, Papa, etc. Since I made the book, she has always just sat there looking at it, interested but passive, maybe pointing a little finger at one of the pictures, or, since Disney, saying "Pa-pa" over and over in the cutest little boo-voice possible. But lately, when I turn to the picture of Dave and me, a joint head shot smiling directly into the camera (back when we were dating, careless and thin), she says, "Mehhh." Like Billy Crystal in that scene in When Harry Met Sally when he decides to spend the evening moaning in bed after hanging up the phone with Meg Ryan. "Mehhhh." Every time. She is giving me a complex. She is not saying mama, certainly not dada -- she could be saying, 'I want Daddy,' because he's been in the UK all week, or she could be saying, 'Yuck, parents,' in which case she's a little young for that. Whatever she's saying, it's not a happy noise. I am perplexed.
Speaking of making noises, Abby is a babbler, for sure, but how could she not be, considering who her mother is? At the same time, she is learning sign language. She knows how to say "more," and she understands that she can say "please," but I don't think she's figured out when she's supposed to say that one. It is really amazing to think that her little brain can communicate even though she doesn't have spoken language yet. Still, she must have reached a milestone the other day, because she talked in her sleep. She was snoozing in my arms, and talking away at someone. My guess would be Bailey. Someone said that babies are born speaking all languages -- it just takes them a while to figure out which one their parents speak. Abby is on the cusp of discovery.
S has decided she'd like to be an engineer (and she actually seems to know what one does). She is relatively good at math, and even more confident of her ability in it, so that might be a good choice. At her age, though, I was trying to decide between being an aeronautical engineer and an astronaut. Which is interesting, both because I ended up as a lawyer and a mom, and because R has decided he'd like to be an astronaut. Somewhere there's a lesson. Anyway, if S starts focussing and putting in 100% on her homework, and R decides he can fit his big brain into a normal school situation, we might all actually get there. (Well, not me; I don't think I'm heading for a career in engineering or astro-exploring.)
Future plans are interesting. People seem hardwired either to constantly make plans or studiously avoid them. I recently heard about a study that showed that 70-year-olds with a 4-year plan for the future were much more likely to live to 74 than those with no plan. Now, I didn't hear enough to know whether the particular study made any sense -- is this a chicken-and-egg scenario? But it did make me think about my 5-year plan. I always used to make 5-year plans, and I even accomplished some of the things on them. The last one I crafted, in fact, I completed to a satisfactory level: it included moving, getting married, and having a baby. Voila!
Cross those off the list. So I think it's time for another five year plan . . . . I'll keep you posted.
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