We taught this little monkey how to clap.
(Side note: I call my children monkeys. I don’t mean it to be derogatory. The word just jumps out of my mouth before I can even take inventory of the more appropriate stock of words and synonyms waiting patiently on the shelves of my brain. One time I was fortunate enough to be on the receiving end of a horrified look from an old lady when I told my little monkey to follow me in a store. Since then, I decided it probably wasn’t the best pet name to use and vowed to replace it with something kinder. But it just keeps slipping out, and I guess if I’m putting it in print, it’s likely here to stay.)
(Second side note: Look at the feathers of hair on my little monkey up there. It’s hard to see them because they blend in with the stroller, but take a second look and tell me that’s not the most adorable thing ever.)
Back to the clapping. There is nothing cuter than an under-1-year-old clapping to her heart’s content. Nothing. I dare you to find something cuter. You won’t be able to.
We were delighted, thrilled, and overjoyed when little Emma finally repeated our clapping actions last week. The whole family gathered in her face, hands clapping all over the place to coax imitation claps. Each clap was rewarded with a miniature copycat one, and everyone laughed, giggled, and smiled until our cheeks hurt.
I didn’t think this clapping business could get any better.
And then I went to get her from her nap a few hours later. As soon as I entered the room, her hands slammed together, her round cheeks turned rounder, and her developing teeth were revealed to me in all their glory as she gave me a sitting ovation.
Receiving applause in Carnegie Hall or on Broadway? Pshaw. Those venues have nothin’ on me. The nursery in my household is where it’s at.