The letter R has disappeared from our house. For that matter, T has largely gone missing, too. They've been replaced - by a whole bunch of W's.
I'm not kidding. Baby talk has taken over much of our adult, "sophisticated" and intellectual conversations. An example of our conversations?
"Good Mownin', Gwacie! How did you sweep wass night? Did you have any dweams? Did you dweam about mawmy and daddy? Wot abou' de kiddy cawts? Did you dweam about dem, too? Oh, you awe jus' such a good baby..."
You get the picture. To write that my husband is mortified with every observed conversation (because yes, I'm the only perpetrator of such said words) is an understatement. He can be outright disgusted. And I guess - guess - I understand. I mean, it's not like we want Gwacie to grow up thinking there are only 24 letters in the alphabet, you know? But it's just so hard to resist...what with all her cuteness and all. I mean, if I started talking baby-talk with my cats, wasn't it just inevitable I'd continue with my child?
So - one thing does come to mind. My sister always refused to indulge in the baby talk with her daughter, now a very precocious and extremely bright 12-year-old. Anna couldn't have a better vocabulary, due in part, I'm sure, to her voracious appetite for books. And yet, maybe the intelligent conversations at any early age helped her along. (Hmm...but am I weally willin' to give up my favowite way of communicasion wis Gracie?).
Writing of my niece Anna, I'm about to see her again, and her darling brother, Tommy. That may seem an unremarkable mention, if not for the fact the two of them currently live in Morocco. My sister and her husband had the fantastic opportunity to take a sabbatical from their respective jobs (she, a lawyer, he, a college philosophy professor), and live in Northern Africa for a year. Although my brother-in-law has embarked on some rigorous study of Moroccan Medieval philosophers, (seriously), their family has, for the most part, had a year to absorb Moroccan life and - AND explore the African continent. Talk about fabulous.
Which brings us back to that impending reunion. So we - Gary, Grace and I - will soon be boarding a plane to Rabat, Morocco. We are thrilled, no doubt, and so excited for the reunion and the adventures that await us (long-time readers of my blog will know I absolutely adore international travel to exotic locations). But all that written, this whole "adventure travel when your baby is all of five-months-old" seemed so much more "reasonable" a year ago when we first came up with the idea. I mean, seriously, my baby on a nine hour flight to Paris, only to endure a several hour lay-over before another four hour flight to Rabat? It's all a little overwhelming, now.
Sure, Grace could be the dream traveler. In that, she may only remember it as one long dream. Or - or - she could cry the entire Trans-Atlantic flight. And that, my friends, is my biggest fear. Not only would I worry about my baby, but my family could end up being "those passengers." You know, the ones who, when we board, garner only glares and "are you kiddings?" from all the other passengers.
A part of me wants to buy just a heap of Caribou Gift Cards and go up and down the aisle before the flight begins, greeting each passenger with a smile and an explanation: "Hello, here's a ten-dollar coffee gift card to buy your silence when my daughter screams for the next nine hours. Have a good flight!"
I'm hoping - hoping - that I will soon update you on what a fantastic journey and adventure it was. And perhaps we will serve as the family that inspires all other families to indeed follow your adventures wherever they may lead - even if they lead to Northern Africa when your baby is... Five. Months. Old. I'm sure it will be exciting. Perhaps challenging and sleepless, too, but definitely exciting.
So please wish us luck. It seems odd to "leave" everyone so quickly after my return to KARE, but truly, this was a trip long-planned. I'm sure I'll be back before we all know it; I promise to give lots of details then!
So until next time, enjoy, enjoy this gorgeous time of fall. Take care of you and yours these next couple weeks. And in the words of Mike Wallace, "do well and do good."