Well Baby

Yesterday we visited our beloved pediatrician for the last time. Doesn't that sound dramatic? But it's only dramatic because we've seen her for just six months, so she hasn't gotten to see Jarrah become "such a big girl!" She is transferring to another practice and it's too far for us to drive. Rats.

Jarrah is still topping the charts for height and weight, and was pronounced very coordinated, too. She had two vaccinations, and thankfully did not wake up looking like the Elephant Baby today. (See this post.) After the first shot, she simply swiveled her head in my direction (David was holding her) with an expression that seemed to say, "What was that? I'm not sure I cared for it immensely," but she didn't make a sound. After the second one, she screamed lustily, as well she should.

Our doctor gave us the information for a speech program near our house in case we want to do any "early language intervention" with Jarrah. It was almost a relief to hear someone say that she is a couple months behind American bio babies in her speech, since I've been making myself insane suspecting this anyway. On the other hand, experts in international adoption wouldn't think twice about it, since she has had 13 months less exposure to English than other 19-month-olds.

Jarrah has produced a few more words recently. At the recent FCC picnic, she said "bubbles" plain as day; I even have two witnesses who have no ulterior motives. She often says "car" when we leave the house now, and Mary swears she heard her say "ice cream" this past weekend. We joke that she's a bit like the Warner Bros. frog (warning: you need to have watched Saturday morning cartoons in the '70s to understand this one) because she won't perform on command.

This morning at Target she did something cute. I had freed her from the shopping cart near the toy section so she could romp a bit, and we got separated when I was looking at trucks and she went back an aisle to see about a ride-on turtle. By the time I retraced my steps, she was gone. Suddenly, I could hear her, distantly, calling in a firm and clear voice: "KAI-yeh! KAI-yeh!" I followed the sound and eventually discovered her out in the central area, standing calmly in one spot, using just her voice to locate me. I shouted "Here I am, baby!" and she looked in my direction, and a slow, sweet smile crept across her face. Then she ran into my arms, laughing. Never once did she lose her cool. She had lost me; she needed to find me, and she was going to do exactly that.

I have no idea why I'm suddenly known as "KAI-yeh," though.