Maybe something funny, like, “I’m moving out!” or “Ready for vacation?” But in this case, no. Just exactly, exactly what you’d hope for, if you were a mama, or at least this mama.

“I love you!” he proclaimed yesterday for the first time. Maybe he really proclaimed something like “I luhv-oo!” – but either way, it was enough to make a mama’s/daddy’s/big sister’s heart warm and swell and become sappy like a maple in the spring. While we’d been working toward bedtime (reading a new favorite, baby loves by William Lach, which pairs simple text with the art of Mary Cassatt – he will “read” lots of it to us!), he wanted to tell “Nannie” (his nickname for his sister) good-night and headed toward the edge of the bed so he could go to her room and see her. I told him “I love you,” and he told me, then Nannie, then Daddy with such inflection that – well, a maple in spring, I was.

His sister had a big day, too – from playing with her friend, a seven-year-old neighbor, she learned to flip over on the swing. She’d already mastered the “put-your-legs-above-your-head” move, so flipping over added a new (but very exciting) step to the process. Gravity? Head pointing away from the center of the earth? Those rules don’t apply to her – at least, not all the time. A new kind of freedom – and lots of cheering from her fan club.

Their mouths and bodies learn to contort themselves, to wrap themselves around new phrases, ideas, and motions, and we cheer, we applaud, we hug, and we revel in all the new things they’ve done, all the new that’s yet to come.

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