She spoke so suddenly, as if this was the day she had always planned to speak, but forgot to inform us about it. I have told her since early on that she was to warn us about these momentous first days - first smile, giggle, crawl, step, word - so that we could both be present and cheer her on. I told her to signal us in whatever way she could muster, maybe a slight wink that says, "hey parents, I have something planned for tomorrow morning that is going to be special."
I think she would live outside if she could. I'm not sure if this is because her first year was spent confined to a 640 square foot loft, high above the surface of the streets, or because I have continuously whispered hypnotically into her ear, "you love the outdoors. you love the outdoors. you love the outdoors." Either way, she seems to enjoy the earth as much as she can at one year of age. She plays in the dirt like it's her job - throwing it around in fits of blissful rage, eating small amounts when we're not looking and always seems to be in a race to get as dirty as possible. She crawls through the grass like a snake and has become close with several pine cones that dot our yard. The only time she has ever fallen asleep on me other than a few times in the first month was on her first hike while strapped to my back. I'd like to think she enjoyed the peace and serenity and views so much that she decided it was a good place to take a nap.
In the morning, just after finishing her bottle of whole milk, she immediately points to the door of her bedroom, signaling her readiness to face the light of the living room. At this point, she used to be satisfied just sitting on the couch with me, cuddling while we watched a few minutes of Sesame Street. But lately, after pointing to the door and walking into the living room, she points to the entrance door. While pointing, she makes a concentrated sound, like "huh," her noise sounding like a question.
And then one recent morning, she came out with her first real, that-was-definitely-a-word word. We both happened to be present, even though there was no wink or other gesture given to us. Her first word came as no surprise. She confidently pointed at the front door, and her in usual way of making each noise sound like a question, she said, "go?"