First syllables

Home today, after a wunnerful six-day trip south for the holidays - a trip that was illuminated by the generosity of friends and families, that was bookended by two stops at Virginia Cracker Barrels, and that felt, at a few points, like a blog tour might feel, if there were such a thing. What do I mean by that? I'll explain, by means of thank-yous: thanks to Janet, for the remarkably kind words about the blog; thanks to Dad, for the Satie and the Beethoven, which will soon make their way, surely, onto the Cleo Top Ten playlist; thanks to Jaro, for the warm encouragement; thanks to Alex and Faith, for giving us a place to stay, and for the wireless that made the last post possible; and thanks to L., for the hardbound volume (a lovely gift, although you, L., remain my favorite embodiment of memories shared). Six days, folks, and I must have met half of my readership. Try that, John Grisham.

But - he says, suddenly remembering his place - this blog ain't about me; it's about the little one. And the little one is suddenly beginning to vocalize, in patterns that might be called intentional or recognizable. While it's true that she does still cry rather regularly, and that at other times she can sound quite like a yeti, as my brother pointed out after several of her miniscule roars, she's also been practicing her mas and her bas.

No big surprise there; those are among the first syllables that most babies utter, and it's usually around the six- or seven-month mark that they start to be said with any sense of intentionality. But, still, it's really endearing to here her in her crib, long before sunrise, starting to wake up and mouthing what sounds like a devout chant of ma, ma. And tonight, she even participated in a very brief conversation: I offered the inquisitive opening (ma, ma, ma?) and she, in turn, offered a reasonable response (ma, ma).

Do the sounds mean anything? It's hard to believe that they do; she utters them at such varied times, and in such different company. But, still, as we realized a few days ago, even such a small arsenal of sounds should allow her to:

1. call for L., when she needs a good hug from her mama.
2. effectively imitate a sheep.
3. predict the winner of the BCS title game (so long as it's Ba-ma).

All of which, it seems to me, is rather impressive, for a little girl who just went to sleep at 5:45.