The Talking

It has begun.

People warned me about this. Granted, it was usually in the supremely annoying, "Just you wait, little missy, " tone that irritating people you just met in the grocery store and only know their name because it's pinned to their chest use when they sanctimoniously inform you that it's all downhill from here. I know you know what I'm talking about.


Anyone who has ever held a child that may or may not be theirs in their arms has had this complete stranger approach them and say, "Enjoy this while it lasts- it goes so fast. This is the easy part. It actually gets hard when they start talking/walking/rolling over." Right. Is it the vomit on my shirt or the mismatched shoes that give you the impression that things are going so swimmingly?


To be fair, I generally write these people off as clinically depressed and in denial about it.


Now, suddenly, with little warning, Nora has done it. She has skipped happily over that line into the territory of which we had been warned. She is voicing desires and opinions. Strong opinions. Some of which result in time out. This morning, after receiving a time out prior to leaving the house (which, of course, put us 15 minutes behind schedule- how does a 90 second time out do that?), she stopped in the middle of a mostly unintelligible soliloquy about cars and blocks to inform me clearly: "I want my blankie and I want my Baby and I wanna go night-night."


Now, I'm sure that in a few days, weeks or months, I will look back at this moment as a sweet milestone. I'm positive that very soon, I will be naysaying those naysayers that would look at this as the beginning of the end of Nora's cuteness. Just like with walking and rolling over and every other accomplishment, I believe that this will result in me loving my daughter infinitely more every single day.


But for tonight, if you need me, I'll be the one in the corner, in the fetal position, rocking and clutching this picture: