Cory started talking a few weeks ago, that is, using a few words in context on his own. Reading Mercedes Lackey novels aloud is at least a couple of years off. (Although he would if he could, for the annoyance value.)

We consider his first word to be “cup.” He said it while looking around for his sippy cup, and went straight to it and took a drink when he spotted it. But he mostly says “Cory” (“Cowwy”) now. It’s not vanity so much as it is the only way he can express a variety of different meanings, such as “that object should be given to Cory,” “time to play with Cory,” and “Cory is on his way over to climb on you and drool on your shirt.”

His main hobbies include turning the ottoman on its side so that he can play in the space between the cushion and the base, taking the cushions off the couch, and throwing the occasional tantrum to see if it will get him anywhere this time.

It’s exciting, but when it happened it was actually kinda creepy. When someone has lived with you most of a year without saying anything, you’d just as soon expect it from one of the cats. Plus, Thud and I have had dreams about Cory talking since before he was born. It’s a strange thing – normal I’m sure, but still strange.

Anyway, I haven’t been able to get him to do it again since then. I think that although he can copy simple words, he doesn’t realize that they mean anything specific, so he has more fun with baby talk.

For now.