I know it is easier for babies to say D than to say M, and I've read that they put together random syllables at first, but it still grates on me every time I hear little Catcher say "Da-da." It is "Da-da, Da-da, Da-da," all day long.
I keep telling him, "Nooo, Mama. Mama. Mama is the one who nurses you every three hours and gets up at 4 a.m. to pump, the one who spends hours on end baking and steaming and pureeing your food, the one who reads to you, the one who changes 99 percent of your diapers, the one who gets up to turn you over when you get stuck on your belly in the middle of the night..." Well, you get the picture. I just wish Catcher would!
It's "Mama," baby!
When we first talked about having kids, my husband Terry said he would get involved when they could play soccer. He quickly that learned they actually need a little attention before then. So he's stepped up in the past few years in many ways and he has evolved into a good dad. But most of the time, he's the fun one. He goofs around with them. He takes Cash to ice cream before dinner. He throws out the bedtime story ritual and lets Cash stay up to watch his shows (which I found out because Cash asked me, "Are you going out tonight so I can watch the Daily Show?") until the kid falls asleep on the couch. When I ask him whether Cash has eaten lunch, he says, "He ate a ton of turkey," which translates to Terry tossing him a few slices of deli meat. All of which of course makes me the bad guy when I enforce bedtime, make Cash eat his broccoli before dessert and police the television viewing.
If Catcher says "Da-da" now when he can't even enjoy those wonders with dad, what is he going to say when he can partake?!