My baby can READ!

Or at least that’s what my husband thought.

I was ironing linen decorative hand towels downstairs (I know, I’m so domestic) while Husband and Baby were in the play room. When I go up to say hi, he asks me, “She can’t read, can she?” Apparently, she happened to look at the page of book (that she’d never seen before) with a picture of a birthday cake and the words “Happy Birthday” on it, and starting saying, “appy bir ay!” over and over again. She was bouncing and saying it, still, when I got in there, quite clearly. He was convinced she was a genius.

I had to burst his bubble. Twice this week we went to a puppet show that featured a birthday cake and the birthday song. She must have picked it up that way, though she hadn’t sung along with the song at the time (however, I sometimes sing that song apropos of nothing; look, I don’t know a lot of songs). Now she’s saying “appy appy appy” all the time, dancing. Darling.