The Word Theo Said at the Window
Everyone in Beatrice's house was impatiently waiting for the baby to speak. Her mother kept a notebook labeled FIRST WORDS on the kitchen counter, her father filmed Theo at dinner every night, and Beatrice, who was twelve and the oldest, secretly hoped that his first word would be her name.
On a rainy Wednesday, Theo pointed at the window, bounced in his high chair, and produced a clear, round sound: "Buh!" Dad immediately announced that it meant bus, Mom wrote down ball, and Grandpa, who had come over for lunch, suggested that it might be boat. Beatrice said nothing. She felt foolish for being disappointed, because nobody could possibly know what the sound meant.
For the next few days she paid close attention anyway. Theo said "Buh" when the mail truck rumbled past, when the cat leaped onto the sofa, and when Dad lifted him out of the bath. It seemed to be an all-purpose word that he used for almost everything.
On Saturday, Beatrice came home from soccer practice with her cleats dangling from one hand. Theo was sitting in the playpen by the window. The instant he spotted her, he kicked his feet, lifted both arms, and shouted, "Buh! Buh! Buh!" He had never said it that way for the truck or the cat or the bath. He said it with his whole body, and only to her.
"Bea," her mother said softly. "He means Bea."
Beatrice scooped him up and laughed so hard that her cleats clattered to the floor.