C is for Hat

Claire is growing at the speed of light. Everywhere we go, friends comment that she's losing her babyness. "She's a girl now! A big girl!" is the refrain. Her legs are straight and strong. Her belly is losing it's roundness. Her nose is climbing out of the common baby pug with a strong bridge and ever-so-slightly turned up tip. Her speech, while still rife with articulation errors, is nuanced and complex. She expresses opinions with supporting evidence. She explains why and how. Like all little girls of a certain age, she can draw her own conclusions and is completely convinced of her own infallability.

Over the past few months, Claire has been concentrating on the alphabet. She finds letters on any printed material available. "That's a C! C is for me! That's a J! J is for Jacob!" Jake often involves himself in the game as Claire's instructor. He asks her what other objects start with a J, giving broad hints occasionally involving unbelievably bad pantomime.

We were looking at an alphabet book a few days ago when Claire started yelling out C words. "C is for me! C is for corn! C is for clown! C is for hat!"

"Yes, Claire, C is for Claire, corn, clown, and cat."

"No, not cat. C is for hat."

I patiently corrected her. "I think you mean that c is for cat, honey. Kuh kuh kuh Cat."

She patiently corrected me. "No, c is for hat. Haaaaaaaaaat. Hat." She even patted her head to illustrate.

I tried once more. "C sounds like kuh. H sounds like huh. C is for cat. H is for hat." She stared at me for a long moment. She decided that I was too dim to understand and moved on to D.

This morning, Claire was playing with an electronic letter game in the car. I heard the annoying music underneath Claire's voice. "A is for apple. B is for boy. C is for hat. See Mom? C is for hat!" I drove to a stop sign, turned, and got a face full of plastic. "C is for HAT." C is for cap, as it turns out.