Sign her up for MENSA!

We're having a debate in our extended family about how many words MZ knows. My current count hovers around 45, but her Pappa and her Grandma S. think the list is much longer. Of course, they add any word she chirps, parrot-like, after they say it 50 or 60 times. I maintain that a word isn't hers until she can initiate it in context.

Meanwhile, her Auntie S. thinks she might be a genius. I can't remember why, exactly, but she said it with the touching earnestness of someone posessed with a serious case of baby blinders.

I love that she's so verbal. It's an absolute ball, but also, MZ is so not about the physical and the physical has been the benchmark for development up to now. Every week I get a Babycenter newsletter that assumes she's somewhere she's not: teething, crawling, walking. She's the only kid in her playgroup who shows almost no interest in walking (witness the photo of King Henry pushing her in her walker wagon).

This hasn't been a source of any more worry than is normal for first-time-parents. I mean, they all get teeth, right? But when the newsletter came through this week proclaiming that at 14 months, "some early talkers may have as many as 20 words in their vocabulary," I enjoyed that blast of parental pride, and felt like she's truly getting something useful from us.

I was a late teether, and our genes certainly aren't going to provide any athletic scholarships. But one thing R. and I know how to do is talk. Talk, talk, talk, all day long. And MZ will mimic almost anything now, including a siren as we were crossing the street the other day, which gave me such a heart attack I almost dropped her. So while she's choosy about what words she will retain (and I contend that it is a choice, since she still refuses to say Cheers after months of exposure), she is extremely enthusiastic about being a part of the conversation.

Thank you continues to be an all-purpose conversation starter. She hands out books, saying thank you to ask us to read them. She holds out her hand to babies at the rec center, amd says thank you to indicate she wants the toy they're playing with. And when she's done with something, she shoves it in our direction with a preemptive thank you to indicate we should take it. She's also learning Go, and spent a good bit of this morning in her dad's arms, saying G-g-g-go at regular intervals to let him know she wanted to be taken someplace new.

We love this much more than the imperious outstretched arm and grunt that still stands in for commands she hasn't yet mastered, the one that makes us feel at risk of becoming handmaids to Princess Miriam.