~OPERATION: WORDS ARE HARD, BUT GRAYSON IS SMARTER THAN DAD, OBVIOUSLY~
Hi again, it’s me, Grayson. You know me by now—cutest human alive, undisputed baby genius, future ruler of the world (pending my nap schedule). Today’s adventure? Apparently, it’s time for me to learn to talk. Like, really talk. Not just the cute “baba” stuff. Why, you ask? Well, because Mommy said so, and when Mommy talks, even Daddy listens. So here we are.
It all started this morning when Daddy sat me in this weird chair. You know, the one where I can’t move but my snack is right there, just out of reach. Rude. Also where’s Ethan? Shouldn’t he be enduring this torture with him? But noooooo here he is alone with dad doing this stuff. Sigh. Damn it Ethan.
“Alright, buddy, today we’re going to practice some words,” Daddy said in that overly excited tone he uses when he thinks I don’t understand him.
“Say ‘Daddy.’ C’mon, it’s easy. ‘Dad-dy.’”
I blinked at him. Sure, Dad, I’ll just magically know how to say words now because you asked me to. Genius plan.
“Baa baaa dooo ga,” I replied, which, for the record, means “Nice try, but pass me that banana first.” Did he give me the banana? No. Instead, he laughed and said,
“Close, but no. Let’s try something else. Can you say, ‘dada’?”
dada. Oh, I can say it, all right. But where’s the fun in giving him what he wants right away? So I smiled my award-winning smile and said,
“Ffff-ppbbba-da!”
Dad grinned like I’d just unlocked the mysteries of the universe.
“That’s it! Almost there, champ!”
Look at him, all proud. Little does he know, I’m just warming up.
Phase 2: Level Up the Sass
The day went on, and Daddy was relentless. Say this, say that. Like, can I just enjoy my mashed peas in peace? But then, he made a rookie mistake. He handed me his phone. HIS PHONE. Oh, the power. I immediately knew what to do.
“No!” I shouted, clear as day, throwing it dramatically to the floor.
Daddy stared at me, stunned.
“No? Did you just say—Grayson, buddy, did you just say ‘no’?”
“No!” I repeated, giggling. This word was amazing. Want peas? “No!” Nap time? “No!” Time to stop playing with the shiny thing? “NO!”
Daddy rubbed his temples.
“Great. Your first real word is ‘no.’ Your mom’s going to loveeeeee this.”
Phase 3: The Great Debate
By evening, Dad had a new plan. He sat on the floor with me and pointed at himself.
“Say ‘Daddy.’ You can do it, buddy. ‘Dad-dy.’”
Alright, Dad. I’ll throw you a bone.
“Daaa…” I started, watching his eyes light up with hope.
“Doggy!”
His face fell so fast, I thought he might cry.
“Doggy? No, no, not ‘doggy.’ I’m Daddy. Daaaa-deee.”
But the damage was done. “Doggy” became my new favorite word. Every time I said it, I made sure to point at him. You know, just to drive the point home.
The Big Moment
Just before bedtime, Mommy came in to see what all the racket was about. I was sitting on Daddy’s lap, surrounded by books and toys. Apparently, teaching me words is exhausting because Daddy looked like he’d run a marathon.
“Grayson,” Mommy said, kneeling down with her soft smile, “Can you say ‘Mama’?”
Oh, now this was a challenge. Daddy was holding his breath. Mommy looked hopeful. The moment was perfect. So I grinned, leaned forward, and said…
“Dada!”
The look on Dad’s face? Priceless. The look on Mom’s face? Not amused. I’m telling you, guys, being the cutest one in the house is a full-time job.
And that’s how I conquered words, folks. Sure, I’m still working on sentences, but for now, I think I’ve got the essentials: “No,” “Doggy,” and “Dada.” Next up? World domination. But first, snack time.
@astxrism - another one in the archive that I finished uppppp