1) Giving the entire house an overdue and thorough vacuuming. It takes half an hour. Katya plays nearby the entire time, moving from room to room with me. One time she stands right in front of the roaring vacuum, folds her hands and starts murmuring as if she's praying.
2) Getting bundled up to go outside as we could both use some fresh air. It's chilly and breezy but sunny out. As I turn the corner to the south side of the house a Painted Lady butterfly startles up out of the flowerbed--deep orange against the dead flowers and leaves. Find a warm place, little butterfly!
3) I give Katya a drink of water out of her little cup and leave the room. A moment later she comes to me with the empty cup and gives it to me with an ernest expression. "Oh, you want some more!" I say, starting back to the kitchen. She says something that sounds like "Nooo" but leads the way. In the kitchen she pauses by a little puddle on the floor then goes and points toward the paper towels. I give her one and she wipes up the spill. Then she goes to the cabinet door where the garbage is and throws away the paper towel. She turns back to me with a satisfied expression.
It is fascinating to watch her mind develop. It's like now she's having thoughts where before she had reactions. How does this happen? How does her little mind grow? It reminds me of watching her as she first learned to roll over (and over and over) then crawl, then stand up and walk. I was fascinated by how she learned to do these things by herself. How do babies know to follow those sequential steps??
Now I wish I could hear her thoughts. Why does she go from concentrating on eating her lunch to stopping, turning her head as far to the side as she can and looking at me out of the corner of her eye? She starts talking in her own language, looking from me to the wall.
And why is it so important for her to gather all the teabags and pile them in an upside down cooking pot lid and transport the whole thing to her little cardboard box house?
Why does she think the dirty clothes pile is a good spot to place her toy spade?
And what is she telling me when she says a sentence to me as I'm cooking, then leaves the room, comes back , says something more, nods when I answer and leaves again.
I'm torn between looking forward to understanding all her words when she tells me what she's thinking and knowing I will miss her musical, eloquent baby language.