Today Clifford said, “Da da.”

When I repeated it he squealed with delight and said it again and again. He was in da da heaven.

Since he’s not been much of a babbler, it was a nice surprise. It was so deliberate. He’s nine-months on Friday. Blink. Where did that time go? Just like that — from swaddled baby to full-fledged communicator.

Lillian, on the other hand, announced that if I didn’t give her pop with lunch not only would she not eat her lunch, and she would never be nice again. So much for my maternal yearning for communication skills.

Needless to say, she did not eat her lunch (yet, it’s still sitting there) and the verdict is still out on the nice thing.  I think she’s already forgotten about that threat.

The funny thing is, we don’t even have any pop in the house.  Now she’ll be eating rubbery, twice-warmed tortillas because of her very deliberate communication.

All I can say is: da da. Or duh, duh … eat your cheesy roll-up.