Talking, reading

We need a Darby update. These things may or may not be new, but I want them written down, so here we go.

The boy can talk! Erika just addressed this, but he gets better and more adventurous in his attempts all the time. Most recently, he's been trying to point out balloons. There's a B sound, followed by some oohing that's clearly broken up into two pieces. I'm trying to teach him "Chicka Chicka Boom Boom," which is going surprisingly well. But the best part of course is that he's mastered "Mama" and "Da," and he will shout it all over the house when he's looking for one of us.

He loves -- LOVES -- reading. He's eager to learn names for things, always pointing at pictures and expecting you to tell him what he's pointing at. And he's expert at the reverse game, in which I ask him where something is, and he points it out. Turns out he really has been paying attention all this time.

But Darby, someday when you read this, this is the part I want you to know about. Likes to read, check. But the important thing is the constant requests for books. If Darby had his way, he'd spend the 50 percent of his day that he doesn't spend eating on making us read to him. Dude. We JUST READ THAT. TWICE. Go play with toys. He shakes his head and squeals in the negative: "Eh!"

And he doesn't ask. He can't, so that would be unreasonable to expect, but still. Don't sit on the floor, because he will see you, and that's his signal to begin. He searches, finds a book, and returns. Then he THROWS it at you from 18 inches away, turns his back, and plops his butt down in your lap, waiting for the show to begin. It is incredibly adorable, but sometimes, when I'm able to take a step back and get over how cute it is and how sweet the request is in my head ("Read to me, Daddy!"), I have to admit to myself: wow, is this kid rude.