Bye-bye, bra-bra

 

For many months now Sean has called Evan with great affection “ba-ba” or “bra-bra,” depending on if Sean could twist his tongue around the “r” sound.  Obviously Sean has been calling Evan “brother.”

 

But last week Sean has dropped his “ba-ba” (or “bra-bra”) and started using the most grown-up and appropriate term, “Evan.”

 

Now when Sean calls Evan, it’s “Evan,” not “bra-bra,” which Evan never answered to any ways.  Not that Evan answers to “Evan” either, but you do have a slightly better chance than calling him “hey you.”

 

Now when Sean sees a picture of Evan, he says “Evan” as he points, and the crowd went wild over this new development.  Instead of Mommy gleefully exclaiming, “You’re right; brother,” Papi and Grandma excitedly said, “You’re right; Evan.  Let’s try again, and give you a cookie.”

 

So now I mourn the thought of my baby growing up, wishing he could stay cuddly and young.  But of course, “no” can mean “yes” and “peease” can mean anything from juice to green beans to “pick me up” to “I want that toy that’s thirty feet over there.”

 

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5 Responses to “Bye-bye, bra-bra”

  1. C Says:

    Awwe! I know it is sad and sweet at the same time!

  2. outside voice Says:

    I remember this moment, too…bittersweet. But they do come up with all kinds of other cute (and sometimes not-so-cute but still funny) stuff to call each other, so at least you have that to look forward to, right? 🙂

  3. faemom Says:

    Thanks, guys.
    Outside Voice, you reminded me of all the hateful terms my brothers and I used. Yea, sibling rivalry.

  4. ck Says:

    Oh, please. You’re not fooling anyone, Ms. Already-Planning-Number-Three.

    You’re a little giddy – admit it. Evan is getting big, Sean is no longer a baby and BAM! The perfect segue into the next round of baby.

  5. faemom Says:

    Well, ck, as you remind me of my best friend who won’t let me cop out on anything, I’d like to tell you I was already several months pregnant with Sean when Evan was this age. IT seems like an eternity until late spring or the summer, and I’ll worry until the line turns blue that I can or that my husband will. Ok, more like will my husband go along with the crazy scheme.


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