Look, a bird.

PROBABLY the best view in the house is from the Little Mister’s high chair. Both the window straight ahead and the one to his left look out onto our overgrown trees and creepers. He sees roses, jasmine, the karaka tree, the sky. He watches while the clouds race past, while our washing dances in the wind, and while the birds fly looking for food. I hadn’t realised how much he saw until our first morning back from Australia. We sat him down to have breakfast. Thoughtfully, he looked towards the window and pointed one finger in its direction. “Burrr”, he said in a pensive, high-pitched attempt at talking. There were birds outside.

For the last three days, there has been no end to the Little Mister practicing this new word. He looks for birds constantly through the windows and when we are out. His beady eyes search the sky and trees for movement, will he see one? In the buggy, he points repeatedly at pigeons. We chase sparrows together. “Burrr, burrr.”

I’m pretty sure he knows what he is saying. But I’m starting to wonder how discriminately  or not the Little Mister might be vocalising his new found syllable. We went to the park today, and again, some pointing and “burr”. Maybe I missed the bird, but when I looked, I could only see people walking past.

Do I already have my mummy blinkers on? I’m not sure. Perhaps he does know what birds are, and he is trying to name them when he sees them. Or maybe “burrr” is the sound of the week, and about to be used for everything and everyone he wants me to look at. With my mummy blinkers firmly fixed in place, I’m going to believe for now he knows what he’s saying.

“B” seems to be the consonant of the moment anyway. We also hear attempts at ball and boo and book and blue when we say them first. And what is certain, is that the Little Mister wants to communicate. He loves pointing now that he’s cracked it. Everything he sees that interests him gets the finger. His babble is now taking on the sound of conversations, with intonation and different consonants and vowels all being strung together. One day, Little Mister, you’ll be able to tell me all about what you see, and I have a feeling we’ll be having some very long conversations.

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