Increasing age, and several years running a theatre sports group at work mean I have no qualms showing my inner-child. However, the old, shy-er part of me still notices the raised eyebrows when my latent Margaret Mahy puts in an appearance in public (she's always on duty at home). Whilst my quiet rebel is delighted at the rolled eyes and amps it up the yibber-yabber a notch in response, alas, most serious parenting books recommend avoiding the baby-talk babble explaining that it will confuse the child, and potentially slow their verbal development, thereby making them hate books and talk funny at a later stage. (Ok, the last bit is only implied).
For me though, a parent who is thrilled at finding yet another rhyming, allitarative word-developing phrase to singsong to her little loved one at nappy change time (come on, it's one thing to sing it, even with an audience, entirely another to write it down for posterity and I wont do it. Noooooo! I tried, it looked terrible and I don't want to ruin the wonderful feeling I get from the sound tap-dancing off my tongue when I do it out loud) can only inspire delight in words, music, and perhaps poetry in her wee charge, at least eventually?
So, the word-picture painting riffing chunter will continue round these parts, especially since the little pixie is signing like crazy and saying several words consistently (dog, duck, cat) regardless. (And I wont blame my self for the "oosh's" (=shoes, backwards, heh!).
And here is the little darling eating her autumn bounty on the doorstep-she picks her own every morning, perhaps not for much longer since it feels like the first frost is around the corner...
