There's a Dog in the Backyard

“There’s a dog in the backyard. Do you see the dog? Huh, huh? Do you see the dog? There, there he is! He’s running around! Dog. Can you say, Dog?”

The reply comes back, “Baby.”

“Max,” I say, “that’s a dog. Not a baby.”

“Baby!” He yells back, finger pointing, arm waving, smiling as only a 19-month old can about a dog running around in the backyard. I turn my attention to his twin sister.

“Julia,” I say, “do you see the dog? Can you say, Dog?” She just smiles at me like I’m a big dummy. ‘Yeah, Dad, I see the dog. I see the dog everyday. He barks and runs around and he plays and I really want to go down there and play with the dog. Yeah, Dad, I see the dog. And you know I can’t say ‘dog’ cause if I could, I would, and I think you know that.’ She’s a smart one, that Julia. A real smarty.

While I have their divided attention, I ask Max, “Where’s the baby?” At this point in time, Max refers to everything as ‘Baby.’ A few months ago, everything was ‘Da-Da.’ Later, everything was, ‘Mom-Mom.’ Now, everything is, ‘Baby.’ The only thing he has a reserved word for is milk, and that comes out as, ‘mo-mo.’ As in, ‘More milk, please.’ I take liberties with the interpretations…

I’m standing there, holding one toddler in each arm, looking out the window at the dog, and I ask Max once more, “Where’s baby?”

He looks at me, smiles, and leans toward his sister, finger pointing at her chest, and squeals, “Baby!”

“Max, that’s your sister, J-J!” I say.

“J-J!!” Max yells back.

“Good boy, Max. That’s right, that’s J-J. J-J is not a baby, she’s a toddler.” He just looks at me and then goes back to looking at the dog. “Julia,” I say, “Where’s Max?” Again, she looks at me like I’m a big dummy. ‘You know where Max is, you’re holding him… why are you asking me such inane questions?’ I ask her a second time, “Julia, where’s Max?” This time she gets a big smile on her face and then dive bombs with her head into Max’s chest. I guess that’s one way to let me know where Max is. It would be too easy for her to say, ‘Max.’ Too easy for her to point at him. Julia doesn’t do things the easy way. She does things her way.

And we resume watching the dog run and play and have fun. So much fun.