Noah hasn’t been interested in saying Daddy.  Papa, yes; Daddy, no.

Andrew prefers to be called Papa, so all our babies learn Papa first, but they quickly move on to Daddy when they hear the rest of the world calling their fathers Daddy.  So, like it or not, Andrew is Daddy.  Except to Noah.  Even when I use Noah’s Kaufmann flashcards for Daddy and I hold up the card and say “Daddy,” Noah says “Papa.” 

It always gives me a secret thrill, because it lets me know that he knows that Papa and Daddy are the same thing and he’s not confused by a little ole switcharoo of the nicknames,  and he’ll call his favorite male parental unit what he pleases, thank you very much.

But a change is in the air.  I’ve noticed in the past week Noah has been experimenting with some different sounds, including a little number that sounds suspiciously like Daddy.

Tonight’s escapades at the pool confirms it.  I was holding Noah by the hands and he was splashing in the water, kicking up a storm with his feet behind him, and he started turning his head around and yelling, “Da-deeeeee” looking for Andrew.   No mistake about it, he was calling for his Daddy to see how fabulous and brave he was in the water.  Once he finally got it out, he said it over and over and over again, laughing, so completely thrilled to finally be able to get that sound combination out.  I think all this time he has lacked the confidence and ability to say Daddy, so he automatically defaults to Papa.  He was so happy, I imagine, to join the ranks of all the other children he hears call out to their father the name, “Daddy.” 

Another small victory —  no, in Noah’s world there are no small victories – another BIG victory for our courageous boy. 

And another reminder to this worried mama that apraxia or no apraxia, we are moving forward, and Noah is finding his voice, one syllable at a time.



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