Baby's First Words

All mothers secretly hope that their baby's first word will be Mama and some get lucky. Some are quite ok if it's not Mama as long as it's not Dada as well.

My little one decided that her first word would be Dada. Her Dada was obviously ecstatic, his little one had shown her allegiance; but that bubble soon burst.
We went to the supermarket that weekend and Kicky the attention seeker that she is, called out to the shop assistant, "DADA, DADA, DADA". The shop assistant looked quite bewildered, possibly a little shocked. Kicky actually looked like his groupie with her hand sticking out, waving frantically at the shop assistant while jumping up and down in the trolley seat. Had her Dada been there he would've rushed to the scene thinking that his darling girl was looking out for him. I on the other hand was trying to push the trolley to the other aisle as fast as I could; I didn't want her claiming someone else to be her Dada.

But then it didn't stop there; one night at a restaurant a young chap seated behind our table had to endure a barrage of "DADA's" every five minutes. The first time, he indulged in a little baby talk, the second time he smiled and threw in a monkey face, the third time he just smiled, the fourth time he tried to ignore her but she was persistent and he just about managed another smile, the fifth time he looked like he was going to have a fit; this is what a garrulous 8 month old with a limited vocabulary (one word to be precise) can do to you.
For a few months all the men she came in contact with were 'Dada' (which definitely made me look bad)

After 'Dada' the little one's palaver moved to Papa, Baba and finally... finally... hallelujah... Mama! Till then I had to endure the "Oh, she loves her Dada, she says Dada. That's so sweet. Does she say Mama yet?"
With gritted teeth hidden behind my polite smile I had to answer, "No, not yet". And then, "Oh don't worry, she'll say Mama sometime. But look at that eh, she said Dada first". Some housewives need to get a life.

So like the Dada episode, even 'Mama' was not as straightforward as I would've wanted it to be. One morning she came to me saying "Mama, Mama" with the sweetest voice. I hugged her and said,"Yes Darling, Mama is here". Then the sweet voice turned into desperate cries 'Mama, Mamaa, MAMAAAA', she was also pointing to her bottle of water. So 'Mama' was now water and me. I thought I had it all figured out, whenever I heard her say 'Mama' I would confidently hand her her water bottle, when one day she pushed the water away. She kept crying saying 'Mama' with the frequency going almost ultrasonic, I thought the neighbourhood's dogs would come barging into my house. The crying just wouldn't stop. I tried a funny dance which always makes her laugh, nothing; tried making funny faces which I figured turned out to be scary when she started crying even more. Toys were thrown against the wall and her favourite Pooh bear was just short of being crucified. By now I was sure that a vein had popped somewhere in my head. And then, what I can only call a maternal hormone intervention (I think some people call it mother's instinct) saved me; a bottle of milk stopped the incessant crying. So 'Mama' was now water, milk and me. Excellent! This is what I needed to complicate my life some more.

Since then my little blabbermouth's vocabulary has grown, thank goodness. However adorable it may sound, four rhyming words rambled over and over again can induce acute hemicrania; migraine anyone?