Words don't come easy

Lily, master of the pointed finger, the expressive 'ah, ah, ah', the informative squeal, the satisfied 'argh', the pout and frown, and owner of the best greasy look I've seen since I was fourteen, has added words to her vocabulary:
bake bees (baked beans)
doos (dudes)
ducky
no no no (with waggly finger accompaniment)
ow
oh oh
bowl
gar (car)
go

One of the many things that has surprised me about motherhood is that I have not become blase about these little accomplishments.

Lily is most particular about how and on whom she bestows her largesse.  Almost anyone, including a house, is worthy of an enthusiastic parting wave, but she is fickle with cuddles.  She has the older girls turning themselves in circles to entertain her, make her laugh, give them a kiss or a hug, whilst she solemnly shakes her head.  I choose to see this as an admirable refusal to perform like a seal, and the singular determination of an independent thinker.  It could equally presage a wide streak of bloody-mindedness.