Our Own Sign Language

Even though I was forewarned, by the pediatrician, no less, I found it very unfair that Daniel was able to say "Dada" before he could say "Mama." Way before. Where's the justice in that? I spend 12 hours a day feeding, cleaning, and entertaining the little firecracker. My husband comes home from work and gets a greeting fit for a king? And gets called "Dada," on top of that? Come on, child development, throw me a bone here! That's why, in my haste to teach Daniel how to address me, I used an exaggerated gesture to convey the importance of the word MOMMY. Sometime around his first birthday, I began to ask Daniel, "Where is Mommy?" When I got no response from him (duh!) I would tap my hand against my chest and say, "Mommy!" That was my way of explaining to Daniel that I was this mysterious Mommy person he was constantly being asked about. As time passed and Daniel was no closer to saying anything even remotely resembling the word "Mama," the chest tap grew more and more urgent. It became a thump. It was as if I were pleading with my son, "Come on! You must remember me! MOMMY!" Soon, Daniel found a way to answer my question. When I would ask, "Where is Mommy?" he would hit his belly with both hands. I thought nothing of it, and continued my incessant interrogating. What I failed to realize at the time (though it's crystal clear to me now) was that Daniel was imitating my gesture! He associated the word "Mommy" with hitting oneself on the torso! I had inadvertently taught him a sort of sign language (well, one word, at least). Does he understand that I am Mommy? Maybe not, but it sure is cool to see him tap that delicious little belly!