One plagiarism case documented, at the cost of two days of my unpaid vacation. Two to go. Unless I decide to pursue a couple of sketchy ones I haven’t reported yet….
Meanwhile, back at the phoneme ranch:
After Christmas, we visited Sugar’s family, including her almost-94-year-old grandmother, who wanted to play with the Bean, though she is too stiff to get down on the floor. She gave him a set of blocks, and at one point, he was playing with them by her chair. “Give me your toy,” she said. “Give it to me.” And the Bean looked at her, squatted down to pick up the nearest one, and put it in her hand.
Guess we’d better work on the cussing. If you don’t start young, they never learn how to do it properly.
Sugar said this weekend that the Bean was saying Mama in a way that definitely meant me, not just as part of his near ceaseless babble. I had thought he maybe was, but I hadn’t mentioned it because I didn’t want to sound like…that mom. But within a day, it became undeniably true. This makes me so melty I almost forgive him for having now, in possession of 6 teeth, completely forgotten how to unlatch from the boob short of just scraping his way off, jaws mostly closed.
It’s possible “mama” also means “muffin.” We made a batch of pumpkin muffins, because Sugar and I were sick of eating banana bread, which has been the Bean’s obsession this past month. He liked the muffins, too, but now we are out of them. So we took the last loaf of banana bread out of the freezer, and he is overjoyed. I handed him a piece this morning — while talking about it, because as you might suppose, I talk a blue streak — and as he grabbed it, eyes alight, I swear he said, “nana!”