"Wow, buddy!"

That's what JD said yesterday as I pushed him Soooo High on the swing. "Wow, buddy!" I chirped. "You're going sooo hiiiigh! WOW, buddy!!!"

"Wow, boo-ee", he echoed. I almost died from the cuteness.

Yes, finally, after almost 18 months of Forest Gump "Eeenhhh, eeenhhh, eeeenhhh" grunts and whines, JD speaks.

It actually started a few weeks ago, but the tiny tyrant has kept me on such a short leash that I haven't had much time to compose a triumphant ode to his brilliance. So one night, we sat down for dinner. He took a bite of soup, spit it out, and said, "Hot", clear as a little bell. Sure enough, the soup was hot! Suddenly, he was toddling about, touching stuff and proclaiming it "Hot!", everything from his food to his bath water to the slide at the playground...

A few days later, we were watching a bird; when it flew away, I said, "Bye bird." We kept walking. About 20 seconds later, he waved his little hand and said, "Bye", clear as day. Then he likewise bid farewell to a truck driving by and our doorman, with the little wave each time.

Soon after that, he climbed up onto the couch, misjudged it a bit, and bumped his head into the wall. He looked over at me, patted the emerging goose-egg, and informed me, "Bump." The next time he attempted to hoist himself onto the couch, he narrated it for me, "Up. Up. Up. Up. Up."

But the best was yet to come. One morning we woke up and began our day just like normal. JD took his milk from me and raced over to the couch, where he settled in to break the fast while enjoying an episode of the finest in children's entertainment, The Wiggles. Now usually, he would grab the remote control and shove it at me, making this horrid, horrid, toe-curling, blood-curdling whiny grunt: "UUUNNNHHH!! UUUNNNNHH!!! UUUUHHHHNNN!!!" (By which, of course, he means, "Mama, would you please be so kind as to queue it up for me? Thanks so much; I love and appreciate you!") Anyway, this fine morning, JD handed me the remote and said, "Help."

I almost keeled over. The heavens opened and the angels sang. There are literally no words I'll ever find to describe how awful that whiny grunt was (is!), and how beautiful, magical, melodious, wonderful it was (is!) to hear that one civilized little word, "Help."

JD continued to hone his verbal prowess, adding "Ank!" (Shank, our dog.) "Dee!" (Referring to himself.) "Vvvroomm!" (When he plays with his cars.) "Uh-oh!" (Which he said 2,718 times in a row one night, for no apparent reason. I guess he wore it out that night, bc/ it has since been retired.) "Cat!" (No explanation needed.) My in-laws also swear to me that he said "grass" when he was outside playing with them last weekend.

We came home on Monday; JD dashed off the elevator and ran to the door. He bent down to peek underneath it to see if he could see Shank's paw. (Which, incidentally, is so stinking cute that it hurts my teeth each time he does it. One night when JD was in the bathtub, I guess Shank was feeling particularly lonely, left out in the hall behind a shut door. He laid down in front of the door, whimpered piteously, and stuck his paw underneath the door. JD belly laughed hysterically to see the disembodied paw. Ever since then, if there is a closed door between him and his canine BFF, JD squats down to peer underneath, "Ank? Ank!") Anyway, JD stood up, anxious to get inside for the joyous reunion, and grabbed the doorknob. He turned to me and said, "Hup, pee." Help, please. I was floored. He astounds and amazes me every single day.

But yesterday he summed it all up with his newest. "Wow, buddy." You said it, JD. You said it.