They're doing all kinds of amazing things with language now, like using verbs and adjectives, and even stringing multiple words together. I haven't caught them pairing a noun with a verb yet, so I can't claim that they are speaking in sentences--even "telegraphic" ones--but they've got developed a real knack for compound words.
Both of the girls get into moods where they'll look around and name every object within their field of vision that they know words for. Sometimes they go beyond names and say other words that they associate with the objects as well.
Naturally I was excited that she had put two words together. It seemed like a cognitive milestone. I was also a little relieved that she had chosen to call the coffee cup, and not the beer bottle, "Daddyjuice." Not that she didn't associate beer bottles with Daddy. Both of the girls have been pointing at beer and wine bottles for months and saying "Daddy." I just thought I would seem more responsible to other grownups if the thing she designated as "Daddyjuice" went in a coffee mug instead of a shot glass.
Alas, it was not to be. It turns out that anything I drink regularly is called "Daddyjuice." Except for milk and water, for which she has generic names. So that pretty much leaves coffee and booze in the "Daddyjuice" category.
Not only are the girls clever, but they can be surprisingly wise as well. Yesterday for instance, I was feeling utterly beleaguered by the time Dr. Mom got home from work. I had thought that we were out of the woods as far as the evil viruses we've been swapping, but after two days of good health and great spirits, they had returned to the snotty, needy, clingy, non-napping little urchins they had been in the previous weeks.
I'm still not feeling great, and my cough-related (?) hip injury/sciatica/whatever the hell it is makes it a real bitch to pick up two kids at once, which is what I had been doing all day, since the alternative was listening to them scream "uppy" and follow me around like little snot-zombies. Also, we had been cooped up in the house all day due to rain and laziness.
But when Mom came home, the kids cheered up and piled onto her, giving me an opportunity to make a break for the icebox and open a cold one.
When I returned to the playroom, the girls were having a grand old time, clambering on their mom and giggling away. I sat on the other side of the room, still grumpy and glad to have a little breathing room for the first time that day.
But Cobra would have none of my isolating myself. Smiling broadly, she tottered across the room to me, pointing at my beer bottle and saying, "Daddyjuice!" I thought for sure that she would try to wrest the bottle from my hand and then have a screaming fit when I kept it from her.
But instead, she pushed the bottle up to my mouth, and tipped the bottom up as I partook of the frothy elixir.
I smiled weakly, but that wasn't enough to satisfy Cobra. She pushed the bottle back toward me again and again until I had drained half its contents.
Finally the medicine began to work, and I was able to laugh once again. The kid might not know how to use the potty or wipe her nose, but she's a pretty solid life coach.