Savanese for Beginners

Dear Sava,

It is a warm Sunday afternoon in Harrisonburg, and already we've had a full day of adventures, linguistic and otherwise. At the moment you're sleeping in your room, I'm at a coffee shop struggling to make sense of my notes on subjectivity, and your mom is painting a picture of a bird in her makeshift studio in the dining room.

It's been a busy week for you. Lots of growing and learning and the accompanying aches and pains. It's now clear to me why so many baby diaries seem to drop off at around this time in the baby's development (or rather, it seems to answer the question as to why the entries into my own baby book suddenly stop around this time. It's not that your parents don't love you, they just barely have the time to catch their breath let alone write). You're so active when you're awake that when finally you stop . . . we typically all stop.

We've been spending a little more time together these days while your mother paints and teaches her workshops.  Last Thursday night we went on a little date to eat soup at the Vietnamese restaurant in town. You cried a little when I took you away from your mama, but soon we were having a great time. You tried all the different things in my soup, you loved the crab spring rolls and, of course, you couldn't get enough of the sauce. (You love yourself some dipping sauce.) Afterwards, we drove to the pharmacy to buy liquid bandage for your thumb (you burned it pretty bad after reaching up to touch a hot pot on the stove). We had such a great time at the pharmacy. You were running down the aisles making the little grunting sound you make when you want to be chased, then you'd stop and face the racks with a blank expression and immediately set to work reorganizing the deodorants and bottles of shaving gel into a pattern you could live with. Then it was off down the aisle again... At one point you noticed a giant image of a baby hanging high on one of the walls and you gave it several running-start kisses.

At home you were unhappy again because your mother wasn't around, but we had a good time playing and reading. But while turning the page on one of your books, you got a paper cut on one of your fingers and the surprise (you seemed to think the book bit you) and pain sent you completely overboard. You weren't just crying, you were sobbing. I held you very close and you placed your head on my shoulder and cried and cried while I hummed a chant. Soon you feel asleep on my shoulder and I walked you over to the bed and lay you down and stroked your head until you fell asleep. As I was leaving the room you said in a sad little voice, "m'night."

Every morning you awaken alive and alert and ready to take on language. It begins with the consonants (mmmmmmmmm rrrrrrrrrrr lllllllllllllllllllllllllll) and eventually leads into a combination of vowels and consonants (mrluh mrluh mrluh mrluh mraluuuuuuuughungaloooooo mraluuuuuuuughungalreeeee). Eventually, you begin throwing in the words you know (mraluuuuuuuughungaloooooo da da da da rlu rlu rlu mah muh MUH! MUH! Mama? Mamdah? Dog?). It's the cutest thing to hear you piecing together language, building it up from the raw chunks. And as you have learned how to speak, we have also learned how to interpret. It might be said that we've met each other half way with language. We now speak a little Savanese. Here's a rough translation guide:

Muh! = a kiss

Dah? = dog

Meeah = cat

Op = all done

Cah? = car

Bah bah = ball (your favorite word/shape/concept)

And "aaaaaaaaaaaaaa [long pause] waaaaaaaaaa-waaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" = teething pain, hunger, fatigue, unfilled desire, etc.

Of course, this list pales in comparison to your animal noises list. You now know how to speak like a fish, a shark a snake, a duck, a bear, a monster, a dog, a cat, a horse and a goose. A couple of these don't have sounds so we've made up good approximations.

Yesterday you had the chance to cycle through all of these in Staunton. We took you to see the giant koi fish and the ducks and geese at the park. Then we took you to a toy store where you got to ride a mechanical horse that was such a rambunctious ride I thought you'd be thrown off. But when it ended you couldn't stop crying about needing another ride. Then we went and ate German food -- where you flirted with a boy your age -- and then off to a party, where you ran nonstop, chasing the dog.

And although you had a bad night due to teething pain, this morning you were up again bright and early, talking, humming to yourself and making cute little noises in your crib. Because your mother was very tired from tending to you in the early a.m., we sneaked away to breakfast and the park (where you insisted on walking over all the leaves and snow and rocks you could find) before returning home to nap.

Now it's time for me to return home and nap along with you before you're up again, running around the house barking and mewing and giggling until bedtime.

Love,

Dad