My mackerdoodle is getting older and more like a little girl, instead of a baby, every day. She’s slow with the words, I think, but they’re coming along. She woke up Saturday morning saying “No” quite clearly and emphatically. She can pick things up and help (I said “can” not “does”. It’s a work in progress) and can identify her body parts, when asked – usually.
She’s also fairly good at remembering where she’s stashed things, but not so good at communicating that to her mama. When asked “where is your binky?” or shoes, or daddy, she will stretch out her arm and point in a vague, waving, 15 degree sort of angle. When I find the item in question (in the case of her daddy I already know where he is, I’m just playing with her) it’s usually within that field she’s covered with her finger, but it’s not that precise.
So these things came together on Sunday afternoon. She had finished her supper before we left for Small Group and was standing with Jonathan and I, sort of doing her own thing. Suddenly she looked at Joanthan, wrinkled up her nose, and rubbed it, saying “tinky, tinky.”
“Who’s stinky?” asked Jonathan.
And with all the precision and drama of a Perry Mason witness stand revelation, she lifted her little arm, extended her index finger and without hesitation or wavering in any way, pointed directly at me.
Jonathan just about spit his coffee across the living room and bent over in half crowing with delight.
Ah the dignity of living with a toddler. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.