Tiny Words, Big Worlds
(Language Development – one sound at a time.)
She said “ba” today.
Not sure what it meant —
but she looked right at me when she said it,
eyes wide,
mouth soft and determined,
like she was trying to open a secret door
between her world and mine.
And just like that,
I felt it:
the beginning of a thousand conversations
that haven’t happened yet.
Everyone told me,
“Talk to her all the time — narrate everything.”
So I did.
In the grocery aisle.
In the car.
During diaper changes.
Even when I was too tired to think of anything meaningful,
I’d say things like:
“We’re putting on your yellow socks now… see, one foot, two feet.”
Or
“That’s the sound of the kettle. Kettle goes shhhhh…”
It felt silly sometimes.
But then one day, she repeated: “Shhh.”
And I cried in the middle of the kitchen.
She’s not saying real words yet.
But her babbles have rhythm now.
There’s music in her nonsense.
And a kind of trust in the way she looks at me when I answer back.
I read somewhere that conversation starts before speech —
in the pause, in the gaze, in the give-and-take of sounds.
So now, when she says “ba,”
I say “ba” right back.
And we go back and forth,
like we’re composing a lullaby no one else can understand.
Around the house, I’ve set up little “language corners”:
A soft cloth book with crinkly pages and simple pictures
A mirror near her playmat — so she can watch her own mouth move
A speaker that plays calm, spoken nursery rhymes
And a little plush toy I use for pretend “talking” when she needs a break from me
They’re not loud tools.
They’re quiet invitations.
Baby Mirror Book
She spends more time looking at her mouth than at the pictures — and that’s exactly why I love it. Every babble, every squeak, is a little rehearsal.
Soft-Sound Nursery Rhyme Speaker
It doesn’t overstimulate. It just gently fills the room with calm voices, helping me remember to slow down and speak clearly, too.
Storytelling Plush Puppet
On the days I don’t have the energy to talk endlessly, this little friend becomes the voice. Sometimes silly, sometimes soothing — but always consistent.
Language isn’t just about learning to speak.
It’s about learning that your voice matters.
That someone will listen when you make a sound.
That there is space in the world for your words,
no matter how small they start.
And every time she says “ba,”
I whisper back,
“I hear you, baby. Say it again.”