First, let me say I can't believe it's been over a month since I posted already. So much for twice a week! But now, to begin....Bridget can say so many words, so many sentences, ask so many questions that it's astounding. I've given up trying to keep track of everything, because she is truly a little talker now. But until last week (and still quite frequently), she absolutely, positively refused to say "I love you." I knew that if she wanted to say it, she could; she just wouldn't.
One morning when I dropped Bridget off at daycare, I was talking to Auntie (the one who takes care of her) about her refusal to say the phrase. Looking back, I'm glad I didn't hear, "Oh, she says it all the time here!" Nope. Instead, it was the same story: Bridget refused to say I love you. She'd repeat other words and phrases if she felt like it, but when it came to those three words, never. But the next day when I picked her up, I found out that they had at least gotten her to sing the (dreaded, since I always hated it) "I Love You" song by Barney. "It was so cute," Auntie told me, and proceeded to try to get Bridget to sing it for me. She wouldn't.
The next day was Saturday, and when I put her "down" for her nap (she has her toddler rail up now, so it's more like I close the door, she gets out of bed and puts everything she can carry—butt wipes, butt paste, toys, etc.—into her bed, and then proceeds to play for half an hour before falling asleep), I heard her in her room playing and talking to her toys. Suddenly, she began saying, loudly and clearly, "I love you. I love you, Barney."
My heart both melted and groaned at once. Hearing my daughter's little voice saying I love you so clearly was so precious—and here she was saying it to the purple dinosaur that I've despised for so many years (and that, by the way, she doesn't have a picture, toy, or any other type of image of in her room—this was all her imagination, apparently). Still, it was cute; she loves Barney and I've learned to live with it (although watching episode after episode gets very tiresome). But after her nap, she still refused to say it to me. Of course.
Later that night, Al came home and we ate and played like usual. Before bedtime, I took her in her room to change her diaper and put her jammies on (mommy—yes, that's me—always does a "jammie time" dance in a very poor imitation of Hammer Time), I asked Bridget again if she loved me. She said no. (I've gotten used to this by now.) I started singing the dreaded song. She said no, wanting me to stop. I asked again, "Do you love me?" To my surprise, this time she said yes! I clapped and cheered (she always loves that type of encouragement) and said, "Say 'I love you, Daddy,'" nodding to Al, who was standing in the door. "I love you, Daddy," came the reply in that twangy little accent of hers (no idea where she picked that up, but it sure sounds like she's got one). We both clapped and cheered, and it didn't matter that she didn't (and still hasn't) said the sentence to me. She's finally beginning to utter those three little words that matter most to us. And we love it.
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