Saturday morning we could hear Emma’s scooter shooshing through the house before we saw her. She appeared at my side of the bed, with her Cokie in it’s designated “Cokie Pouch” and smiled at me. “Hi Mommy!”
“Hi Em!” I said. “Remember Cokie stays in your bedroom.” I stood up.
Emma raced off to her bedroom shouting cheerfully, “Cokie stays in your bedroom!”
What was utterly spectacular about the morning was, not only did Emma put her blanket back in her bedroom, but stayed in the living room, preferring my company to the solace of her blanket. Her thumb stayed out of her mouth as well. Emma’s thumb sucking, something I have lost sleep over more nights than I care to count, has deformed her mouth requiring years of dental work in the future.
The following morning, Emma arrived at the side of the bed. “Hi Mommy!”
This time Emma was not holding her blanket and later when I went into her bedroom, there Cokie was, stuffed in the “Cokie Pouch” and left on the oversized armchair. Emma stayed in the living room with the rest of us, cheerfully playing. She spoke more words over the past weekend, than any of us have ever heard. She pretended to go on the school bus, she acted out various children on the bus, admonishing them, “No spitting!” and “Logan, sit down!” She then pretended to go on the airplane to “visit Granma and see Claudie,” before going to “Becky’s class” where she recounted how she’d made Becky “so angry” by ripping the class copy of Goodnight Moon.
Emma’s continuous flow of dialogue was nothing short of profound. We were all astonished by it.
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