It's with trepidation then that I admit that not only is T talking for Britain but C, yes baby C, wants in on the act too. Last week, at nine months, she said her first 'proper' word and now it seems there's no stopping her. So not only do we have 'nana' but also 'hiya' and not momma but 'da-dee'. I console myself with the fact that it's harder for babies to make the 'm' sound than the 'd' one, and the fact I heard her speak first.
My house is never quiet and tonight is no exception. C gurgles, babbles and laughs with delight. T shouts 'I am NOT a teething toy' as she chomps on a handful of his t-shirt and tries to persuade me to give him a pre-tea Jaffa Cake. The washing machine spins and a variety of annoying plastic toys plink and sing in the background where they have been switched on and discarded. I long for just a moment of peace and quiet, but secretly dream of the day when both my children can talk. I'm not wishing away the baby years of course, just standing by for the magic moment that I'm sure feels just as good second time around.
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