He Says What He Means

Yesterday I was working in the master bedroom and John was playing somewhere upstairs nearby, so I checked on him, "John where are you?" He called back, "In my nest." Well, I didn't know what that meant, such that I didn't think I had heard him right even though he enunciated it perfectly. "Where are you?" "In my nest!" I followed his voice to find him in one of the bedroom closets . . . in his nest! Weeks earlier, I had stored away the crib mattress and my maternity pillow, and John had asked if he could use them to "make a nest," which I said was fine.
It's been remarkable to me, really for the last year, that John says what he means and means what he says. Just because I don't understand doesn't mean he wasn't being clear. As a young one-year-old, I came to learn that if he told me he saw a dog or a cat or a whatever, then he really did. It might be a tiny icon, a few milimeters big, on the spine of a book on a shelf up high, but he saw it. And now that he is so much more verbal, he still means what he says, even when it takes me a bit to figure it out. It's a very fun time.

Speaking of language, we had a funny exchange yesterday. John woke up from his nap and I walked into his bedroom and told him excitedly that we were going to leave for the grocery store. He asked if he could bring his Lambie and Blue Lamb stuffed animals. I explained that we should not bring them because he might lose them at the store. "The lambs are safer if we leave them here." John paused thoughtfully, then said, "Leave Mary here?" I was stumped! I stifled a laugh and explained that, in cases of babies, they were safer if they came with their mommies so we were not going to leave Mary at the house.