Today as I was feeding Hannah her daily dose of babyfood and talking to her about how Bailey is her dog, she surprised me by saying, “Dog” with the kind of clarity that can only come from a belly empty of regrets and full of pureed green beans.
“Did you just say ‘dog’?” I asked in disbelief.
Hannah laughed in response and opened her mouth wide like a baby bird waiting for a worm. If by “worm” you mean mushy green beans and mashed bananas, in which case you wouldn’t be too far off the mark.
I think it must have been a coincidence, since Hannah has not said “dog” again this afternoon, despite my continual prompting. Or perhaps she can say more than I give her credit for and just likes to make me work for it. I think she’s a contemplative child, taking many things under profound consideration. Often when we’re talking, she will look at us and vigorously bob her head in a “yes yes” motion, exclaiming “ya ya!” I think this may indicate that she gets it.
I’d like to reclaim some of the intensity of observation that we lose growing up. Sometimes in learning the accepted explanations for why and how things hang together, I think we miss the wonder and grace of the little things in creation.
Sometimes “dog” says it all. Ya ya.