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The Greatest Wuuuuuv Of All

One of the greatest things about motherhood is witnessing Michaela learning the English language.

Talk about hilarious.

Just today, I realized that she calls Kleenex tissues "bless-yous." So I sat there trying to explain to her that while we always say "bless you" and hand her a tissue, that is really not the name of the product.

And we still haven't been able to break her of saying "help you" instead of "help me" when she needs assistance with something. I guess it's because for months I was asking "can I help you" before she could ever ask "can you help me."

Like I said, hilarious. And it's even more funny when you try to explain it to her, because you can understand exactly why she has it all wrong.

A few months ago, she spent all day long asking for something she pronounced "kroh-nee-chee." Finally, when she was on the brink of a meltdown, I picked her up and walked her all around the house, pointing to things and trying to figure out what she was asking for. All along, the poor child was asking for "macaroni and cheese. "

A few other examples:

"El-pen-emo." Yes, you guessed it. That's four letters of the alphabet: L, M, N and O. And at the end of the alphabet song, she says "tell me what you tink-a-mee (think of me)." And she actually waits to see what you think of her, too. You have to say something like "you're so smart" or "you are fabulous" before she sings it again.

"Huh-wooo-yah." That's preacher's kid talk for "hallelujah." Of course, she says it loudly and with her arms swinging in the air. And occasionally, she throw in a "tank-you Jesus" for good measure.

"Gran-mutner." That's grandmother, what she calls my mom. She also believes my mother plays Cinderella's fairy godmother, actually played by Whitney Houston in the multi-racial Rodgers and Hammerstein version. You'd have to know my mom to realize just how sweet that is. (Read more about that in my blog next week. )

Michael and I are both talkers, so Michaela was destined to be a motor-mouth. I remember when she was a baby and she'd lie between Michael and I in the bed at night and listen to us talking, her little head turning back and forth as she watched our lips moving. When she got older, she would suddenly babble something and wait for us to respond, like she was just dying to be part of the conversation.

As she hones her language skills, I'm both excited and grateful. I'm excited to know what's going on inside her pretty little head and that she can tell me what hurts and what she really wants and well, how she feels about me.

"I wuuuuuv you, mommy," she says, her little arms wrapped around my neck.

And with a wuv like that, I can't help but be happy.