I went into last weekend as a Dada.
I left as a full blown Daddy.
No, I didn’t have to make a religious pilgrimage into a forest with nothing but a jacknife and a piece of rope, hoping to come out 10 days later a different man.
I just had to listen carefully to The Hurricane when she called my name. Although I wasn’t the first to pick it up – The Boss listened to Ace of Base instead of Guns ‘n Roses in her childhood, so her hearing is better than mine – sometime on Sunday the little one made the move from baby to toddler by declaring the days of ‘Dada’ over, ushering in the days of calling me ‘Daddy’.
And oh my God, it is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.
“Pees Daddy wawa.” (Please Daddy, water)
“Daddy potty.” (Daddy dropped a bomb)
“Daaaaaaadeeeeeee.” (Hey old man, I want you to pay attention to me)
“Daddy high.” (No, I’m not actually high, it means let’s hide under a blanket and tease the dog until she jumps all over us)
The list goes on and on. And, what’s shocking is that at 19-months-old that just scratches the surface of her vocabulary. The Boss signed me up for some parent website about, oh, 20 months ago, and every week it sends me an e-mail with tips and hints and things to watch for with my kid. Yesterday’s e-mail said a 19-month and three-week old should be able to say 10 to 50 words. The Hurricane easily has over 100 – hell she can rhyme off 50 words from just one picture book. In fact, last night when watching Baby Einstein Shapes (which she calls Baby Shay) she turned around in her chair, looked at The Boss and said, “Oval.”
Clear as day.
Some words only those closest to her can make out, but it’s still pretty amazing. I’m sure I’ll start a list sometime for the baby book, or to carry around in my wallet to bore amaze people with, because it seems like she knows too much for someone her age.
Her expanding knowledge is great and it’s scary as hell, because not only is she poised to pass me by any day, it also means she’s getting big, and I’m not sure I like that.
* update – I also noticed at supper last night that ‘choo choo’ (which was one of her first non-parental words, along with apple and baby) has been replaced firmly by ‘train’. So now when we hear action on the tracks about a mile from our house, the whistles will no longer be accompanied by a surprised ‘choo choo’, but a matter of fact ‘train’. She’s such a big girl (and it kills me).