I took Danjo to the doctor this week for her fifteen month checkup.
It was like World War III from the moment we walked through the door. Never has it been more evident how completely different my daughters are.
And I have to remind myself that Danjo is the "normal" one, the one who fits all the developmental time lines and screams bloody murder at the sight of a doctor.
Babybel is not abnormal inasmuch as she is extraordinary. Always easy-going and adaptable. She had dozens of words by the time she was Danjo's age. She's extremely verbal for her age, so her teachers say and so I like to think.
The doctor asked me if Danielle had any words.
"Um, a few, I guess?" I replied, compiling a list in my head: mama, no, dada, Mamba (Maribel), no, chi-chin (chicken) and NOOOOOOOO!
"So, she's not putting two words together?" the doctor continued.
Not unless you count when she yells at me or the dog, "No, mama!" or "Down, Lapu!"
Or the occassional "Whatever, Mama." or "Go to hell." or "Lady, you take one more picture of me and I'mma stick that camera where the sun don't shine."
Why would you need words when your looks have such complex sentence structures?