Milestones are so incredible.
Some are heartwarming, others sobering.
Briar has led us on the journey to many.
Today she said her name. The three of us were having a wonderful Sunday breakfast at the table together. Sunlight was pouring in through the window set high in our dining room. Briar, having fought a cold all weekend, was the perkiest she’d been in days. As we crunched on bacon and ate fried eggs with our fingers we practiced saying our names.
Me: “Briar. Dad. Mom. You’re Briar. He’s Dad. And I’m Mom.”
Sean: “Briar, Dad and Mom. Mom, Mom, Mom, Dad.”
Briar: Looking from me to Sean grinning.
Me: “Briar. Mom and Dad. Dad and Mom. Briar. Briar. Mom. Dad.”
Sean: “That’s right. You are Briar. That’s your mom. I’m Dad.”
Briar: Looking only at Sean. “Da. DA. DA. Da-d!”
Sean: “And Mom. That’s Mom. Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Mom.”
Briar: “DAD. DAD. DAD. Dad”
Me: “Yes. Dad. And Mom and Briar.”
Briar: Looking at both of us smiling. “Bria-r.”
Quick “Did she really just say that??” look between first time parents.
Proud exclamations and thrilled, “Yes. You’re Briar, you brilliant, incredible, wonderful girl, you!”
So that was that. No real Mom or Ma, which was fine. She knows who I am.
And, she knows how to work me.
A couple of hours later the three of us were in the living room. Again, a little word practice, no where near the drilling that as I type the words I realize it must seem we orchestrated at breakfast. It was light and encouraging. In our defense we stopped short of that whole “Baby Signing” craze. We have and will continue to let Briar do things at her own pace. And we’ll do this because of who we are AND who Briar is. Iron will. (read: the kid calls a lot of the shots, lucky she’s so brilliant and knows many of the right moves a step ahead of her folks, though I do believe we are entitled to some credit.)
Anyway, few hours later…
I am sitting in a red chair with a matching ottoman in front of it. Sean is across from me on the couch. Briar is toddling around, still a little clingy thanks to her bug. She was sort of babbling and looking at the two of us. Then she started lifting her arms asking me to pick her up. I think Sean reached for her and she looked at him, turned to me, reached out her arms, touched me and said very clearly and pointedly, “Mine!”. Not Mom, or ma, but mine. I picked her up and she said, “Mawm” and then molded her body to mine contentedly.
Oh, she knows what she’s saying, and she’ll decide when she is saying it. I realize that the “mine” milestone may not be a foreshadower of easy days to come, but tell me that you wouldn’t feel just a tiny bit like the luckiest person on earth if a child chose you as the first reason to announce “mine” at the top of their lungs.
I am pretty darn crazy about the fact that Sean and Briar are mine. And I am “mine” to them.
Take a minute to tell someone they make you want to say, “MINE!”