Baby Talk

Baby Talk

When Julie came into our lives, we worshipped her. After years of trying, we got the baby of our dreams.

Amy decorated the nursery in soothing colors. I made the crib and the bedding was top-of-the-line. Her little clothes sat in an heirloom dresser.

We settled her into that room after the hospital, listened carefully for trouble on the baby monitor, followed all the baby-rearing guides. Nothing was too good for our Julie.

But as the months flew by, we got concerned. No sounds. No babbling, no baby talk. Julie’s doctor told us not to worry. Oftentimes babies take a while to talk. She responded to sounds, so we knew she wasn’t deaf. She smiled more than cried. Finally we just decided perhaps she was mute.

“I think I’m just not going to worry about this anymore, it doesn’t help the situation,” I told Amy one day.

“John, how can you be so uncaring? That’s our daughter.”

“She’ll probably start, then never stop. Perhaps she’s just listening.”

Amy stormed off in the direction of the nursery. Julie’s nap time was soon to be over.

Suddenly I heard loud shouts. I ran to them.

Julie stood in her crib, all smiles and tousled hair. Amy held Julie’s chubby hand.

“She spoke, John. Actual words.”

A little tiny voice said, “I don’t like it here. In fact, mom and dad, I would prefer to take my nap time in a different room. Is that possible? This bed is like a cage. Perhaps if I was to have a bed more like yours, I would be happier. If you could give me a pen and a piece of paper, I’ll make you a list of some things we could do to make my life more enjoyable. In fact…”


W/C 299