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My toddler understands everything I say, does yours?

When I put on my make-up and say, 'Let's go for a walk,' he toddles to his shoes and tries to put them on. On our way to the playground, we pass his favorite neighbor whose arapaima he has killed playing 'Peek-a-Boo' and 'Wake Up Fish, Swim!' with. She has since switched to gold fishes because my son clapped his hands in glee when he saw them on television in her home.

'Say bye bye, boy,' I whisper, trying to inculcate respect in him. He waves his hands at her in response to her outstretched hand which was beckoning him to go into her apartment for a game of 'Peek-a-Boo' with the gold fishes.

I carry him down the stairs, a faster descent than having him walk the six flights of stairs. 'Gai gai, gai gai!' we went as we bounced down each step. He understands even my Mother Tongue language, Cantonese, and repeats the words for 'walk walk' as we bounce down the stairs.

'Careful!' I call as he toddles uncertainly towards an empty swing. He turns, looks up at me, smiles and flashes his charming white milk teeth, turns and continues the last two steps towards the seat. As he lunges towards it, my hands are already under his armpits and I lift him up on the swing.

'Want to go up?' I ask.

'Up, up,' he says, each up sounding more gleeful as the seat swings a few degrees higher than before.

After ten minutes of supporting his lithe chest with my small hands, my arms start to cramp.

'Ok, it's bath time,' I pronounce and soon we are space-walking up the six flights of stairs back to our apartment bedroom for his bath. I put him in his play pen and fill his bathtub with soothing warm water. I add two drops of baby bath gel and swirl the water around to create the foam.

I release him from the play pen and undress him.

'Don't splash mammy!' I shriek, as he kicks while I lift him down into the bathtub. 'Stop splashing! I'm getting wet!'

Gleefully, the suds go all around the bathtub, onto the bathroom floor and onto me as he now splashes with both arms and legs. He giggles more gleefully as my shrieks become louder.

I put him back in his play pen and warm up the porridge for his supper. Then I seat him in his high chair, facing me.

'Open your mouth,' and as my words fall out of my mouth, I open my mouth wider. He does the same, in anticipation of the delicious spoonful of goo. 'Open,' I say, as I ladle each spoonful into his mouth which he opens wide with every 'open' command.

After dinner, he goes into his play pen and I switch on the television for him to watch while I finish the rest of the porridge for my own supper.

The next morning, as I put on my make-up in preparation for work, he goes to his shoes and waits impatiently, saying 'Shoe, shoe!'

At the kerb along the road I sing, 'God, give us a taxi, please God, give us a taxi.' His hand shoots out to wave at an empty taxi on the other side of the road. I am looking in the wrong direction, as usual!

When I am frustrated, tears rolling down my eyes, I cry, 'Mammy is sad. Give me a huggy wuggy?' He lumbers towards me, puts his arms around my neck and smolders me with his wet kisses.

Does my toddler really understand everything I say? I will never know for sure.

The most stunning occasion must be the one when he starts to say more than a repeated word. As we get ready for bed one night, he sings 'Oh my darling Wei Wei'. My mouth falls open. That little lullaby was last sung to him when he was three months old. He not only understands, he remembers!

Learn more about this author, Lokemun Magar.
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