Started with us a month ago, he's gone from no words to "ma," "go," "buh," "duh," "tuh," "mm," and "ah," although he only says that last one with me. His mother is amazing, feeds us, made me cupcakes for my birthday despite only knowing me a few weeks. "I can tell who's doing this for a paycheck and who actually loves it," she says. "You guys love it. You love him and what you do and we are so grateful." She's right, we do. I do.
Held him in the store today for a good while before he wanted to go walk. His mother said, "He really likes you. He lets you hold him without fussing or squirming." I smiled, then later asked, "Does he let the other instructors hold him?"
"Not to talk down on them or anything, but no, not really. He tries to get away. He's so relaxed with you though."
His mother is his favorite thing in the whole world and he hates being separated from her. Last week, he stood in the kitchen with his mother. She stood up and left to do some quick errand down the hall, and my little mouse, my little professor, started to cry and stood to pursue her. I decided I wanted to work, and I decided to try competing with his favorite thing. I said, "come here," not expecting him to listen because he hasn't been so compliant with me in the past, and because he was in the middle of a tantrum for his mother.
He stopped, turned and looked at me, still crying. He looked to his mother down the hall, stomped his foot forward, then looked back at me. And then he ran to me, still crying. I held him in my arms, shouted, "Good job! Good listening! Go see mom now!" squeezed him tight, released him to his favorite thing.
My little mouse walks around the kitchen, stops, looks at things. He points his little finger at the corner of his mouth, furrows his brows, and like a tiny professor deep in thought, says, "Hmmm." I do it back at him, and it is our game now--both of us tiny professors, posing and thinking.