Drink, thank you, excuse me

I always hold Rich right before putting him down for bed. I’m always the last one to say goodnight. Since Stacy is here, Grandma says goodnight first.

RICH: Dween! Dween!

Grandma was holding his water tonight, so he wanted a drink. She handed it to him, said goodnight, and walked out of the room.

RICH: Gankoo, Gammah.

She didn’t hear him because she was already gone. Less than a minute later, he burped.

ME: Bless you.

RICH: Skoo me. Skoo me.

ME: Bless you, Richie.

RICH: Skoo me.

ME: Bless you.

I think Rich said 11 prayers on the way home from church.

I lost count. They always go something like this: “Hi Fa, [jabber]. Amen.” He knows to address Heavenly Father because he’s heard it so much from us, and he knows how to end it. And to be honest, he probably knows what to say in the middle—we just can’t understand him. (Also, that middle part can be rather lengthy sometimes. Not usually, but sometimes.) Karen told me later that he loved watching me because I always folded my arms and bowed my head and waited for him to finish. Apparently that was fun to him.

Actions speak louder than words

Rich is usually pretty squirmy when he’s getting his diaper changed. Not every single time, but usually. Just before dinner, we were all in the living room chatting and doing whatever. With no warning or context, Rich grabbed the travel changing mat, opened it up (and did his best to lay it flat), got down, and rolled over onto the mat in diaper-changing position.

STACY: Looks like Rich is ready to get his diaper changed.

Karen and I just kind of paused. And then started laughing. Stacy maybe didn’t know how unusual it was for Rich to do this, but to us it was hilarious. Rich has never opened up the diaper mat and gotten himself ready. Never. But he was ready, and he just stayed there until I came over and helped him. Sure enough, his diaper was full. Once changed, he went right back to playing and carried on with his evening.