T-Bird Takes a Vacay

Our family just returned from a one-week vacation. The goal: to capitalize on what Tess can do.

After all, she's made it quite clear what she cannot do or would prefer not to do. That'd be:
- endure temperatures in the 80s and 90s without AC;
- be in a stroller a lot;
- explore cities or other places with crowds or noise;
- mess with her nap or bedtime schedule;
- make more than one flight connection; and
- eat in restaurants for every meal.  

It sounds like she's high-maintenance. But as I've mentioned before, we are not allowed to be annoyed with her if we are the ones who have put her in a bad place. I will be the first to admit that my ambition on previous vacations may have exceeded Tess's tolerance. For example, we crashed and burned at Disney. Big time. Simply put, we've learned that less is more--a pool, a place with AC and a kitchen, and, most important:  Not. Too many. Activities.  

This year it was great. We slowed way down. No tours, not much walking. And no daily agenda, other than swimming. Which she loves, maybe even more than eating.    

Dialing back the ambition turns out to be pretty excellent. Both kids chilled out. We all had long, fun days. We got pruned skin in the pool.  

I began to relax. Which is good. And it was then that I made the most startling discovery. For months I've been trying to get Tess to to say "Dad." She made a "da-da" sound long ago, but we aren't sure whether she knew what it meant, and I haven't heard it in forever, despite me prompting her a billion times. In stark contrast, she says "Mom" every day, mostly when I'm trying to get her to say "Dad." She says "Mom" when Mom is home, when Mom is not home, when she's waking up, when going to sleep...pretty much always. But then on this trip, we were in the pool and I scooped her up and bounced her in the water, which made her laugh a lot. I said, "Dad! Can you say dad?" She just looked at me, and then started to shout, "Ga-ga-ga," with a short "a," so it rhymed with "last." I gasped. "Honey?" I said to my wife. "What if 'ga-ga' means dad?"

Tess's hearing is spotty. She had a hearing test recently under sedation and the results were inconclusive, so we plan to repeat it in a few weeks. She may require hearing aids. In the pool I said "Da-da" to her, and she put her cheek against mine, the way she does lately when she is listening to something. And then she looked right at me and said "Ga-ga!"

In other words, Tess called me Dad. She looked at me and called me by name. This is huge.