First Words

Our son decompressing in his ball tent.

Our son said his first words.

We were out at dinner a few weeks ago, which typically involves our son eating quickly and then having no patience to sit at the table while the rest of us eat.  So dinners out usually mean that I wolf down my food and I take him outside for walks while my wife and daughter finish their meals a bit more leisurely.  I like this arrangement because then my wife pays the bill.

Clearly all done, our son turned to me in agitation.  He raised his arms to be picked up out of his high chair, and I wondered at which volume his distressed "AAAAH" would sound this time.   His mouth opened, and a moment later the sound followed.  "Mamamama UH!"

Mama up.

Time swirled around me as I lifted him to me and hugged him close, tears in my eyes, staring dumbfouded at my wife across the table to make sure I wasn't dreaming.  She nodded, smiling.  She had heard it, too.  Oh, what a moment!

I hugged him and squeezed him and wanted to celebrate right there but our son wasn't sharing this stop-time experience and wanted out.  Miraculously we were all ready to leave.  Our slowest eater was finger-painting her face with her condiments.  I put my son in the stroller and wiped ketchup off my daughter's hands and face, which clearly transferred to the wipe but didn't seem to be washing off her skin.  "Bath night," I thought.  I put her in the stroller, and pushed it outside, our family together, still rejoicing over this new development.  I couldn't stop smiling at our little boy.

Then my wife said, "Look at her."  I glanced at our daughter and touched her red cheek with alarm.  "That's not ketchup," I said. "Those are hives."  Her face had broken out in red, swollen welts, the rash on her face around her mouth, on her cheeks under her eyes, and down her legs.  We buckled the twins in their carseats and raced to urgent kids' care.  (Our cheerful little girl recovered over the next half hour and was sent home with a dose of children's Benedryl.  Turns out she is allergic to pineapple.)

Our son spoke his first words.  His sister, with her outgoing personality and, in this case, allergic reaction, forever steals his thunder.  But not this time.  He spoke.  He knows that words are used to communicate.  He understands that he can use words to get what he wants.  He accepts that he has to put his lips together to make the "m" sound (something that does not come easily or naturally for him) and he knows his mama's name and the meaning of "up."

He has been paying attention.