The Owlet is 23 months old. She reliably speaks over 200 words and babbles a lot. She has been chattering on for months, obviously trying to tell us stories, which we all wished we could understand. Today, for the first time, she told me a story I could quickly interpret.
Recently, she and I were out in the pasture with the goats. Shine, the baby goat, was dancing about and trying to play with the Owlet. She called out, "Shine!" in a happy little voice, obviously enjoying our outing. Shine then knocked the toddler down, and giggling ensued. Then she jumped on the Owlet's head, which was not quite as popular.
The next time we went out to the pasture, I asked Pop Pop to carry her so no goats would topple her. The baby regards her Pop Pop like a groupie would a rock star. (It may have something to do with the fact that he happily fulfills any request she can make clear to him.) He scooped her up, and she could admire and pat the goats safely. He gently set her down in the milk room while I was milking, and she was able to watch the process with great interest. A wonderful time was had by all.
Today, we were sitting outside, and the Owlet saw the baby goat. She said, "Shine!" Then she patted her head, reminding me of how the little goat had climbed on her. Then she put her arms up as if asking to be picked up. "Pop Pop, hold you." She said, her face alight with happiness. She was clearly telling me the saga of how she was gently carried out to see the goats from the safe height of her hero's arms.
It was a good story. There was action, drama, a damsel in distress, and a knight in shining armor to save the day. I can hardly wait to hear more of her tales.
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