Rebel Baby is very close to saying her first word.
“She will say her first word any day now,” says Mummy.
“She has already said her first word,” says Daddy. But Daddy is wrong; Mummy refuses to accept that “Daddy” is her first word. It is a coincidental baby-noise that sounds like a word.
“Say MUMMY,” demands Mummy.
“Dadadadada,” babbles Rebel Baby.
“Mamamamamama,” echoes Mummy, insistently.
“Dadadadadada,” says The Baby again.
Mummy frowns. She needs to make this fun.
“Mummmmmeeeeeeeeee!” says Mummy, swinging The Baby into the air.
“Daddeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” squeals Rebel Baby in delight.
Mummy is not happy. She will spend the next week repeating all words that are not Daddy most forcibly to The Baby, and referring to Daddy by other names so as not to reinforce a habit. Much as she would love RB’s first actual word to be “Mummy,” Mummy is resigned to the fact it is more likely to be, “Noooo,” “Give it to Mummy,” “Put that down,” or “What’s in your mouth? Spit it out, SPIT IT OUT!”