Wigwam. She’s been saying it for months, maybe even a year. Always with the same inflection, always with great enthusiasm. “Wigwam!” Except not exactly wigwam; that’s just what my brain has equated it to in a desperate search for meaning and connection. Her word/pronunciation is more like “waygwum!” And it always brings such joy. It has always clearly meant something. For months on end whenever she has said this word, and it’s been a lot—daily, even—I have desperately feigned understanding and replied weakly, “Uhuh!” Because without any additional context clues, what else is a mother to do?
I hear you, child. What you’re saying is important—so important. Please keep telling me. I’ll figure it out, someday.
Well, today was the day. Lydia was watching a show on the iPad; one she’s watched a million times before—and if not that exact one, a variation of it. It’s just a kid playing at a park while his mom films him on the toys. For some reason Lydia could watch this stuff for hours—and then she recreates what she has seen by acting it out either with her toys in her hands, or with her own body on our furniture 😂
Looking over her shoulder, I noted the show and said, “Oh! Playground!” to which she responded happily, “Playground!!” And I heard it. The long-familiar “waygwum” instantly morphed into a beloved, half-articulated “playground!”
It was like discovering a chunk of gold, this brand new, clearly valued word in our now shared vocabulary. The inflection, the joy, and finally the meaning falling into place.
PLAYGROUND!!! Oh happy, happy day! 🛝
