We finally confirmed the definition of Lake’s word Baba. It’s been one of his favorite words in constant rotation from the very beginning. We thought he was babbling (and maybe he was). Lately however, it’s taken on a more prominent and clear role in his working vocabulary. In the morning often, or at other times, he’ll run through what appears his list of favorites: Mama, Dada, Nana, Baba, Jo “Doe”, so I started wondering who is Baba?
It’s not “baby”, cause he knows that one. Baby! Happy! Happy Baby! Happy! Baby! Me, he’s been known to enthuse.
Michael figured out, “it’s your chest. Lake sees his source of milkies as another entity unto itself. There’s Mama and then there’s Baba.” Really? Wow! That’s pretty special. He counts me twice! Does that make me a Double Tolle Americano?
I’ve been breastfeeding Lake since he was born. Keeping in mind the World Health Organization guidelines on global breastfeeding initiative: exclusively until 6 months, then until at least age two. I have never put any pressure on myself or Lake to meet these guidelines, choosing instead to simply breastfeed but not pump. Meanwhile, the WHO benchmarks have been there as a reference point and a source of support. The initiative silently cheering me on. So Lake has gotten plenty of breastfeeding in his life thus far. It’s a familiar regularity.
Then as the weeks passed and Lake continued to rattle off Nana, Baba, I began again to question the identity of Baba. It still was open to possibly in my mind. Was it Grandpa? A variation on Papa as we sometimes refer to him as for Lakes benefit. Before we could really go all in for calling my Dad Baba, we needed absolute confirmation from Lake himself.
I received that assurance today when I came home for Lunch with Lake. As we were getting ready for a milkies nap, he started saying Baba. Baba. I asked Lake
Who is Baba?
He gently patted my breast. Baba. Baba.
Okay, got it! It couldn’t be any more clear than that. How sweet is that? Baba equals the milk source. Michael was right all along.
I get counted twice!
One thought on “He counts me twice”
I thought it was Grandpa, too. I’ve heard babies ask for their bottles saying baba…I guess his source of food and comfort also needs a name.