Chapter 19 : My baby's first words have left me totally paranoid

I know it's cliche, but ever since Edward was born I've wanted him to say "Dada."

Dad, Daddy, or even Pa would all be great too.

Any or all of the above!

I don't know when my obsession started... It was probably around the time that Eddie rocketed out of the birth canal.

Something about your first child changes you in the head, I guess.

Here I was thinking about football, getting an oil change, and what was for dinner. Then less than 24 hours later, I'm coming home with Hannah and a brand new little human in her arms. And that's when I became solely focused on getting "Dada."

Of course, Hannah was just as anxious to hear "Mama," and that usually comes first. The M's are easier for babies to say.

Still, there was a chance that Dada could get that come-from-behind victory. With enough prep, I was convinced I could make it happen.

First, it was weeks of Eddie learning to sleep, eat, and adjust to life outside the womb.

When he started to gurgle and babble, the race was on.

"Dada, sayyy Dada!" I'd say, just inches from his beaming face.

"Bbblababababallllbb," Eddie would respond.

Days and weeks went by. I'd parse out family time carefully, interspersing Hannah's occasional "Mama" request with a barrage of "Say Dada... Dada, Dada, Dada..."

"Bbblababababallllbb!"

The little guy was doing his best.

It was months into Eddie's life, when we finally got his first real word.

"Bug!"

Bug??? Are you kidding me?

"Was that his first word?" Hannah had asked, just as confused.

"Uh... no... Eddie, say 'Dada' or 'Mama' for us. You can do it."

"BUG," Eddie squealed.

Hannah and I shared a perplexed look.

"Did you teach him that?"

"No! Did you?"

"Of course not... It must be in one of his toys or songs. That's so strange."

But "bug" didn't spoil our party.

Hannah and I celebrated "bug" with nearly the fervor as we might have Mama or Dada, expertly hiding our dismay for Eddie's sake.

And I was still determined, more than ever.

That weekend, I was bouncing Eddie on my shoulder, trying to get him some sleep in between our vocab practices.

"Bug," Eddie unmistakably babbled for the upteenth time that week.

"Yeah sport, I hear you. Bug."

"Bug," Eddie said again.

And I bleep you not, Eddie was reaching toward one of those bugs that you see skittle across the floor from time to time. (They're called carpet beetles, I think. And of course, they're totally harmless.)

I don't have any clue how he spotted it, but there it was.

"Bug!"

He wanted it badly, squirming in my arms, reaching and now freshly awake.

"OK Eddie, OK."

I let him crawl up to the beetle, which wasn't in any hurry to escape.

"Bug bug bug," Eddie rattled off, the most excited I'd ever seen him.

"Yeah kiddo, good. Bug."

I think it's actually pretty impressive that he would identify that. I almost got my phone to record it, but that's when his outburst began:

"BUG BUG BUG!"

I stepped over to Eddie as his voice got louder, probably the loudest I'd ever heard outside of his routine crying.

"Do you want me to-"

SMACK.

"Bug!!!"

Eddie killed the beetle with a clenched fist.

"Geez, Eddie."

He stared at the mess he'd made and squealed his loudest, celebrating his victory.

I picked him up and took him to the sink.

Hannah would be unhappy if she found beetle guts all over his hands.

***

Eddie hadn't said "bug" since he killed the carpet beetle. He actually has a new word.

"Coco."

If you didn't notice, that's not Mama or Dada, but it's close. Two syllables. Repetitive.

I think we're almost there.

"Coco!"

Somehow, Eddie picked up on our Chihuahua's name. He must have heard us say it at some point, or maybe C's are easier for Eddie to pronounce than M's or D's.

Coco is pretty old, and barely able to see or hear, so the toddler screeching its name is probably as bewildering as it is to me and Hannah.

It's kind of cute, though.

The two of them have certainly formed a unique bond. Like that Pixar short that was before, uh, well I actually forget which movie they paired that one with.

Eddie calls for Coco, and Coco usually will approach within a few feet.

Eddie cheers "Coco!" over and over again and then exhausts himself. Then, the cycle repeats a couple hours later after an inevitable nap.

In addition to Eddie's second word, he's gotten more mobile. He'll crawl around and play with his food now. It means we can let him bounce around his nursrey, allowing Hannah and I to do chores, so long as one of us is watching.

At least, we thought that was the case.

It was a Sunday afternoon. I was half-watching football while Hannah was out shopping.

Every few seconds, I'd check on Eddie and make sure he was enjoying himself, not getting into trouble and so on.

Sooner or later though, I had to use the restroom. It literally took me two minutes, maybe less.

"Coco Coco Coco. COCO!"

It had been a few days since Eddie had a Coco burst like that. It was audible throughout the house.

I returned to the play room as quickly as I could, and when I got there, I understood why Eddie had been squealing so ecstatically.

Coco was dead.

***

I buried Coco by the time Hannah got home that night.

She was crushed. We loved that little dog.

After a good cry and a mini-funeral, we'd opened a bottle of wine and were trying to figure out what to watch on TV.

"So... You just found him?" Hannah asked, finally able to talk about it.

"Yeah. Coco just... took a nap and didn't wake up."

"That's for the best," she said. "I guess we were expecting that sooner or later."

"Totally. He was really up there in years."

Hannah sighed, searching the streaming site with the remote.

"Can you get us some popcorn or something?" she asked.

"Sure."

I checked over my shoulder one more time before leaving the room.

She wasn't suspicious in the slightest.

Out of respect for Hannah's squeamishness (and trying to avoid a rather gruesome truth) I'd spared her the details. I'd outright lied.

The images flashed through my mind as I combined kettle corn with SnoCaps.

Coco hadn't passed in his sleep.

When I'd returned from my midday bathroom break, Coco had managed to hop Eddie's child safety fence, which I assumed had sparked the "Coco" outburst.

Re-latching the gate, I'd turned the corner to find Eddie still squealing in the corner.

Coco was wrapped in his tiny arms.

"Cocooo!!!" Eddie shrieked.

The toddler was squeezing the life out of the poor animal.

I shouted, horrified at the sight of it all. And I did my best to stop it. But I was too late.

By the time I'd reached Eddie and separated Coco from his vice grip, the pup had gone limp.

"Eddie! Why? What did you do?!"

Eddie's breath slowed.

He looked up at me and just smiled.

"Coco." Eddie answered.

I put Eddie in his crib for a nap, buried Coco, and wiped all the footage from our indoor cameras.

I still hadn't processed it, honestly. Eddie killing the bug was a fluke, but this was strange.

I'd just never heard of something like that.

"Honey! Come in here!"

"Almost done," I called down the hallway, realizing I'd spent too much time PTSD'ing.

"Now!"

I dropped everything and jogged back to the living room, my pulse suddenly racing.

"Are you OK?"

Hannah was holding Edward in her arms, a giant smile on both their faces.

"Say it baby. Say it again. Come on..."

I looked down at Eddie, confused. Our eyes met.

"Dada!"

Hannah gasped.

"I can't believe it! That's his third word!" she celebrated.

My jaw dropped.

She added, "Oh, I'm so jealous. You're sooo lucky!"

"Dada... Dada!"

I should have been elated too, but inside, all I felt was terror.

"Dada! Dada! DADA!!!"

"He's saying it! Wow!"

The child reached his arms out toward me.

He said "Dada" and that meant somehow, at some unknown moment...

I was going to be next.