My Morbid Chatterbox...

So Oliver has decided it's time to start conversing and I have been waiting for this since he was born.

But instead of excitement from others I have encountered the exact opposite.

It's okay, I'm used to it.

See, when Oliver passed the 6 month mark and could finally eat food, people told me "my life would never be the same." They were right, but I thought it was exciting.

When Oliver turned 1 and started walking, people told me "my life would never be the same." They were again 100% correct. Sure, the first few weeks were terrifying but I swear he became happier the moment he claimed independence.

Now Oliver is 18 months and the words keep coming. Everyone rolls their eyes warning "my life will never be the same." And yes, they all predicted it correctly. But hearing Oliver count to 10 and say the alphabet makes my heart sing every time.

Well, almost every time...

Last Thursday we were sitting in the park drawing chalk circles on the ground when another toddler approached us. Oliver dropped his chalk, waved and said "Hiiiiiiii!"

And, after a few moments the toddler turned to leave and again Oliver dropped his chalk, waved and said "Die, Die."

"Die Die!?"

In addition to telling me how "my life would never be the same" everyone also told me Oliver would have his own dialect that only Brett and I would understand. At this moment I knew 'everyone' had once again been correct. I knew Oliver's intention was to say "Bye bye."

He's 18 months old and he'll straighten out the B's and D's eventually; but until then, I'll remain the proudest Mama in the world no matter how many people he wishes death to on a daily basis.