Language. Its an amazing thing, hearing this person you’ve done everything for since they were a defenceless hungry lump offer you a cup of tea, and when you’ve drunk it, ask you if you want some more, even if it is just a hairband in an old tin. We once started noting down each word BB could say to see how many there were –

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and then it quickly went of the end of the blackboard. As well as these words correctly formed and executed, there are many BBisms, names for things coined by BB that don’t seem to bear any relation to the original word; throw-backs to her first experiments with sound when feet, socks and shoes were all called bat, and penguins were called gwodge gwodge. She utters them with such certainty and determination, regardless of what we say that we end up accepting her pronunciation and adopting it ourselves. So planes are not planes; they’re copters. Breakfast, lunch and dinner are all just numynumy. Anything denoting to trains can have the prefix ‘choo choo’. The other night Dad, rather worn out and at the end of his tether after some effort trying to get BB towards bed, bustled into the front room looking for something. On being asked what, he irritatedly growled, ‘choo choo stories’.

I don’t think I ever blogged what BB’s actual first word was. Rather embarrassing this, ‘Dart’.

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