words.

You wait a long time for your child to participate in a conversation. When she finally is able, it's overwhelming. And then she doesn't stop talking. Ever. She requests pattycakes in the name of every person she's ever met. Eighty times an hour, she asks you the location of Dada and Monk. She wants fishies, crackers and juice at the worst possible moment. She has opinions about what she ought to wear. Best of all, she shows you phantom "owies" and requests kisses. You want to die from the cuteness. Then one day, as you're tucking her in, she says, "I love you, Mama" completely unprompted. You stare at her, wondering if she could possibly know what that means. And you say, "I love you, too, baby." And she smiles.