Elijah hasn’t exactly leapt into the whole walking thing. I can’t blame him. If I could get Diana to carry me around all the time I would. But I could never get my adult-sized baby bjorn invention to work. It kept breaking Diana’s spine. So for the short term, he’ll get around on his hands and knees, thank you very much.
On the flip side, the boy does love to talk. Aside from his constant baby babble, he loves to spew actual words. His four favorites are Mama, Dada, Bye Bye and Hi. I’m sure he knows other words, but these are the ones Diana and I are constantly quizzing him on.
“Can you say, Mama? Can you say, Dada?” and so on and so forth. I know it goes against my anti forcing-children-to-do-tricks-for-entertainment stance, but it’s just so dern cute we can’t resist. When we quiz him, he gets an embarrassed look on his face, concentrates like a spelling bee champ and then utters the now famous words.
However, he’s on to us now. As soon as one of his dopy parent’s starts in on the “Can you say…” he’ll just rattle them off. “Mamadadabyebyehi.” And then he’ll go back to banging things with his toy rake.
So Diana is trying to get him to say, “Grover.” She’ll say, “Can you say Grover? Grover. Grover. G-r-o-v-e-r.” At which point Grover will walk into the room with an expression of, “You rang?” Once he realizes he wasn’t summoned for treats, he’ll exit to resume his systematic destruction of my yard with his acidic urine.
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