Thirteen words

Twenty-two-month-old Mouse is bound to be an announcer.  All day long he walks around pointing and announcing.  “Ro-Ro,” he says, pointing to his sister.  “Mama,” pointing to his mom.  “Dada,” pointing to Mr. Greenjeans, his dad.  “Papa,” pointing to Couponman.  “CoCo,” pointing to his Aunt Coco.  “Ya-Ya,” pointing to me.  “Lo-Lo,” or something sounding similar to a trill of his tongue, he says when pointing to his brother. 

Hot Wheelz gave a plastic pointer finger for Christmas to the toddler with the limited vocabulary.  Everyone thought it was funny except the GAP.

“He can say lots of words,” his mom whined, not so convincingly.  She held up her fingers and counted them off.  “Dog, that’s one,” she said, touching her index finger.  “Baseball.”  Not to be confused with plain “ball.”  That would be numbers two and three.  She continued saying words and counting them off until she came to twelve single sounding or syllable words.  “Belly button,” she announced.

“He can’t say belly button,” I exclaimed.

“Yes, he can.  He says, ‘bel-bo.’”

“How do you know that means ‘belly button?’” I asked.

“Because he lifts his shirt and points when he says it,” she said.  She called him in.  “Maddo, say ‘belly button.’”

“Bel-bo,” he said back, lifting his shirt.

So I guess that makes thirteen words. 

I don’t think you can count “Grrrr,” when you ask him what a reindeer says, even though the little hands held like claws are really cute.  Wouldn’t you roar, too, if you’d just helped deliver a sleighful of toys?

Roaring like a reindeer

P.S.  Actually fifteen.  Yesterday, saying good-bye to Uncle Cheezy, given name Kolby.  He’d added him to his ever-growing list.  “Bye-bye, KooKoo,” he said.  Not too far from the truth, I chuckled.  And then today, said “Bye-bye, Bra,” to Brandon, aka Hot Wheelz.

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4. One liners
5. Merry Christmas to all