My grandson has begun to talk. Last week when I took him out to his mother's car in the evening I mentioned that the sky was dark because it was late. This evening, after he had eaten his meal he looked out the window and, pointing outside, said what sounded to me like, 'A scar, a cigar.' Then he looked at me expectantly.
'He's talking about the sky,' his mother said. 'He was doing it in the park the other day. He kept saying the same thing and pointing upwards. It was ages before we realised that he was saying the sky.'
I turned back to my grandson who repeated the same phrase and now I realised that what had sounded like 'a scar' was 'the sky' and what I had translated as a 'a cigar' was really 'is dark'. I nodded my head, eagerly. 'The sky is dark,' I said. 'That's what you're saying, isn't it?'
He was ecstatic. He repeated his little mantra over and over again, pointing towards the window and each time I confirmed what he had just said, he laughed delightedly.
I cannot imagine what an incredible time this must be for him! I remember when I got my first book published. I wanted to replay the news over and over again. But that was nothing compared to my grandson's triumph. He has begun his dialogue with the world. Who knows where it will lead?