Most of you know that I had to wait almost 18 months to hear my precious son say "mama." Many of you suggested that I would someday regret being so anxious for him to talk and I'm sure that day is yet to come. But, for now, I'm still reveling in it.
I love hearing Evan call out to me. It. Never. Gets. Old. He has this way of raising his voice at the end like a question, just to make sure I'm listening. I say "yes, Evan," and he flashes me that brilliant smile.
It's like a light went on one day - "What, all I have to say is mama or dada and they stop whatever they're doing to pay attention to me - awesome!" It may have taken him 18 months, but he definitely gets it now. Sometimes he puts the two together, cocks his head to the side and says, "mamadada," then changes his tone of voice to say "dadamama." We love it.
As I write this, I'm reminded of something I forgot to include in my post about last week's wedding. Before we left the reception, we got to see the Mother/Son dance. I was trying to keep my sanity as I entered the 5th hour of "Evan at a wedding," and as I watched my sister and nephew dance, I started to cry. It suddenly dawned on me that, in what will eventually feel like only a few short years, Evan will grow up, leave home, and get married. Jeff came out and saw me crying, and I think he may have teared up as well.
Someday, I won't get kisses and hugs every time I ask for them. I won't be able to hold him close before bedtime. And, I won't be able to hear that cute toddler voice cry out and say "mama!" Until then, I'm going to live it up.