Tom will be 10 months old next week.
Right now, he’s really into babbling and laughing and falling down and crying and being shy and loving his mom and putting gross things in his mouth.
He talks, but he talks in a language only he can understand.
Well, when I hold up a stuffed animal bird and say “Bird” to him approximately 127 times, he will say “Brr” back. And then I squeal. And then he squeals.
And then I hold up a stuffed animal raccoon and he says “Brr.”
And then he squeals.
And then he gives me an evil look because I didn’t squeal.
So anyway, he doesn’t talk.
He’s not supposed to.
He’s a little baby.
But still, I find myself demanding he say actual words constantly throughout the day.
We run into a neighbor and then the neighbor says “Bye Tom!”
What do I say?
“Say ‘Bye’ Tom.”
A cashier at the grocery store tells Tom how cute he is.
What do I say?
“Say ‘Thank you!'”
I am responding to people through my child by demanding he speak in complete sentences.
Even though I totally know he can’t do that yet.
But it’s like I have some weird mom disease.
And it makes me say these things.
Sometimes I talk to him, respond in my head and answer him.
Now, please still be friends with me.
Yesterday, we went to Target. And I was walking up and down the aisles with Tom while I looked for stocking stuffers.
And I said to him, “This is cute. Do you think Matilda wants this?”
Then I said, “Yeah, me too.”
Do you see what I did there?
During the pause, I decided Tom said “Yes, Matilda will totally love it.”
I think mom disease is also called schizophrenia in some circles.
But to those people I say, “Am I crazy?”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”