At eight months old (today!), Liam is a talker! He chats while he plays, he sings while he eats and he babbles at us in long baby language sentences. We know where he gets it...
Flashback: My Grandmother "T" and my mother Jan in a full kitchen, their voices harmonizing in a stream of busy chatter. My Grandfather Max laughs from his brown leather chair in the adjacent room, "You gals could talk the stripes off a tiger!"
I am a sometimes talker. When I am stressed, excited or have something to share, I can keep up with the best of them. Other times, I am happy to observe or listen. Caleb was quite plithy as a youngster, but these days, he is a more reticient teenager.
At five months old, Liam was laying on the changing table, looking up at his Papa. "Baby," he sputtered. "What did you say, Bop?" Again, "Baby". He performed his miracle for me a few days later in the car. Some unknown, to me, musician was crooning on the radio, "Baby,oh, baby, baby..." And from the backseat I hear a little response, "Baby."
Next came the standard "Ma, ma, ma, ma" and "Da da da". Then, "Hi!" And once, "Hi mama!"
Lately his favorite word is "Errah" (Ella). In the morning, he stands on the bed, peering over the guardrail and calls in his loudest voice: "Errah". She stumbles into the room (after sleeping for sixteen hours) and he laughs at his powers.
Some people spend the first year of a baby's life waiting for them to talk and the next seventeen hoping they will be quiet. We look forward to all eighteen years of his childhood chatter! (uhm, someone remind me I said this when the four-year-old "why?" shows up!)