"Oh, great," I said. "He's saying a lot! More and more every day."
"Does he say thirty words?"
"Oh yeah. I mean, I think so?" I looked at Liam. He shrugged. "I'll say...yes. Definitely."
"Oh, fifty? Um...I don't know. He's picking up more all the time. I'm not sure about fifty though."
Does anyone keep track of this stuff? I'm sure lots of people do, actually. Just not me. Anyway, our doctor was fine with thirty (possibly fifty) words and pleasantly surprised that Finn went through the entire appointment without crying hysterically and screaming, "No! Mama!!!" every time he tried to touch him. That hasn't happened since before we had to see one of our doctor's partners who did a particularly thorough ear exam. It's been a while.
Of course, as soon as we left the appointment and I started paying a bit more attention, I realized that Finn easily says fifty words. And every day since then he's picked up more. Some of which I can even understand!
For the one's I can't, he has figured out the next best thing: charades. My two year old is freakishly good at charades!
The other day he went down for a nap much later than usual so when our neighbor friends were on their way home from school and stopped by to play, he had just fallen asleep.
"You guys are welcome to come in," I said. "But there's just one rule: do not wake up Finn!"
Of course, that's an impossible rule. Our house is on the small side, Finn's room is front and center, and I was doing absolutely nothing to curtail the loudness that naturally comes with kids who are having a good time. Within minutes Isabella came out onto the porch to tell me Finn was crying. "Don't worry," she said. "I'll go get him." So I kept talking to my neighbor while the kids stripped down to their underwear, put on capes (Liam's big into Captain Underpants at the moment) and jumped into Finn's crib to hang out.
Later on, I asked Finn if he had an okay nap. His eyes got very big and he started acting out exactly what had happened. First he laid on the ground with his eyes closed, looking very sweet and peaceful, then started yelling, "Preston!" in his sweet baby voice. After the second or third, "Preston!" his eyes shot open and he looked around wildly like he was anticipating an attack. Then he started fake crying.
"Oh!" I said, finally understanding what was going on. "You were asleep until the kids yelled for Preston and it woke you up?"
"Yeah!" he said, acting out once again what he looks like when he goes from asleep to awake.
"Then you got sad and cried?"
"Yeah," he said, frowning. "Preston! Waaaaah!" Then he smiled SO BIG and backed into my lap for a cuddle. No translation necessary for that one. I love you too, Finny...