I had a dream when you were only six months old that your first words were the complete sentence, "You can't tell me what to do!" You babbled so early and so prolifically that I figured you'd be talking by the time you turned one year. But now here we are two months past that, and I'm still in the dark. At least you've started pointing, but many times I still don't know what you want.
Why are other babies your age using words when you're not? Aren't you the child of a doctor and a lawyer who speak to you constantly in both English and Baby-ese? Who read you books every night? I Google the milestones, and you're definitely lagging in the language department. Have I done all the right things? What did I miss? Is this how it's going to be, you giving the overachiever but unsure parent in me an anxiety attack at every developmental step? I know comparison is futile, but I still fall prey to it sometimes. It's going to be a long parenthood if I don't learn how to stop now.
My thoughts of worry really are just fleeting; all I want is to hear your voice. Your real voice. Not just "mamama", "dadada" and "uh oh". As your mother, I keenly know your cry and your coo, but I want to know what you sound like when you express yourself with words. The lilt in your voice when you're delighted. How the words come out when you're angry. The tones you release when you're sad. I want to talk to you, to hear your thoughts and feelings and desires. Right now all I can do is wonder, but I'll bet it's going to be a beautiful voice.