I've always been fascinated with language, so it's been an amazing treat for me to watch it grow and blossom, from seeming nothingness, within Abigail.
Her latest speech feat has been to attempt negation. The very first I heard of it was a few weeks ago, when she began to read a book from memory, and her Aunt Lisa continued on for her when she paused.
"No! Abby can read it!" She protested. "Auntie Lisa can don't read it!"
I've heard the same structure repeated a couple of times since: "No! Mommy can don't sing it! No! Daddy can don't do it!" Cracks me up every time. Fascinates me even more.
Meanwhile, Michael continues to be having a harder time of teething than I would ever have dreamt possible. I took a good look in his mouth this evening and confirmed that his lower-right molar has "landed," and his upper right molar has pushed out, but not yet broken, the gum line.
The left side is another story. I was horrified to discover a bulging blue blood blister/bruise on the top, where a tooth is clearly struggling to break through, and a tiny red blood blister on the bottom, just above the topmost point of a barely-protruding point. Please, God, let the canines go easier on him. I can't believe he was in such a good mood today, considering, but if the pattern his other teeth have followed is any indication, the worst is probably over by now. It's just agonizing to look at.
And poor, tiny, Amelia. We took her on a doctor visit today to make sure that her worsening respiratory infection is under control. The good news is that her lungs are clear. The bad news is that there isn't much more we can do for her than what we've already been doing. Apparently, it's really tough to kick infections when you're only three weeks old.
Despite the difficulties she's been having trying to eat (and sleep) through all of that snuffling, throat-clearing, and coughing, she's been gaining weight at an impressive rate, and is now up to 9 lbs, 15 oz. She's also grown a bit taller, and boasts a full 22 inches in length.
Now, if only she'd get the whole "keeping it down" part, we'd be set. I've changed my shirt no less than four times today (and it takes a whole lot of spit-up to make that happen, since spit-up happens so frequently that there's usually no point). But as long as she remains a "happy spitter," I suppose I can't complain. I'll take simple laundry problems over reflux and GI problems any day.
