There she spoke her first word. Here she learned to talk. Very shortly after moving day, I returned home from work to the delighted chorus of "Mummy, Mummy!" Moth charging through the hall to greet me, and Ever following in his wake, giving voice to her new found word: "Mummy."
Soon the little echoes became a regular occurrence. With two parents and a younger brother to imitate, Ever quickly rose to the challenge. Now that she had found her voice, she was determined to speak just as competently as those around her.
Whenever I spoke, no matter how quietly, I was guaranteed to hear the words echo. Almost effortlessly single words merged with others and expanded into basic sentences and expressions. "I enjoyed today," she would say every night before bed.
Then came the day that she spoke of her own accord. I recognised the words and expressions as my own, but this time she was not merely repeating what she'd heard me say seconds beforehand. She had quite literally taken the words out of my mouth and was using them appropriately to say what she wanted.
Now she subjects us to questions, and an endless running commentary of all that's going on around us, her observations and interpretations of what she can see. "What are you doing?" she asks me repeatedly, even though often she knows the answer already.
As someone who's sometimes afraid to speak up, I cannot help but marvel as I listen to my little echo, imitating no more but discovering her own voice, and not hesitating to use it.
Soon the little echoes became a regular occurrence. With two parents and a younger brother to imitate, Ever quickly rose to the challenge. Now that she had found her voice, she was determined to speak just as competently as those around her.
Whenever I spoke, no matter how quietly, I was guaranteed to hear the words echo. Almost effortlessly single words merged with others and expanded into basic sentences and expressions. "I enjoyed today," she would say every night before bed.
Then came the day that she spoke of her own accord. I recognised the words and expressions as my own, but this time she was not merely repeating what she'd heard me say seconds beforehand. She had quite literally taken the words out of my mouth and was using them appropriately to say what she wanted.
Now she subjects us to questions, and an endless running commentary of all that's going on around us, her observations and interpretations of what she can see. "What are you doing?" she asks me repeatedly, even though often she knows the answer already.
As someone who's sometimes afraid to speak up, I cannot help but marvel as I listen to my little echo, imitating no more but discovering her own voice, and not hesitating to use it.
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