Now it may be a little unflattering to compare one’s 1-year-old with a televisual do-gooding dog from yesteryear, but Megan does have distinctly Lassie-ish tendencies. She’s always trying to tell me something.
I spend my days trying to interpret her various noises, nods and gestures and returning them with my own ”oh really”s and “how interesting”s Megan… She hasn’t yet mentioned that she’s discovered little Tommy Tucker in trouble down the old mineshaft, but she can tell me that she has filled her nappy, via the dual medium of pointing to her bottom and saying “oo”. Of course most of her chattering is the sort of loveable babble that only the finely-honed ears of a mother can translate, but we’ve all got to find our voice somehow and the two of us can converse for hours in our secret Lassie language.
I just wish she could solve the great ongoing mystery in this house… which one of the ice cream tubs in the freezer actually contains ice cream?