So, Henry’s been talking. A lot. More and more. In fact, “more” is one of his frequently used words. Most of his other words are nouns and verbs referring to specific things; “more” is a word that covers a more general sort of concept, and he can apply it to many situations. He’s asked for more food, more nursing, more tickling; he points out the snow falling outside and then points again and says “more.” He points to a puddle and then to all the other puddles around and says “more.”
He’s also been remembering and retelling events. When I meet up with him and Brad after I’ve worked out at the gym, Henry will often try to tell me what they’ve done when I was away. If they’ve gone up to the house, Henry says “house” and hammers with his hands. If they’ve gone to Starbucks, sometimes he’ll point at his mouth and giggle, meaning Daddy’s given him cinnamon twist. Language for him is already more than a way to get something he wants. He converses for the sake of sharing information, for fun.
Wasn’t he calling everything “dada” or “ba” just yesterday?