Oliver learned a new word. Oh boy did he learn it.

He’s been signing “book” for a while now, but somehow he just suddenly made the connection with the actual word. He pointed to a book and clearly said, “Book?” Evie couldn’t have been more stunned if he’d just spouted the Declaration of Independence.
Evie: “He just said book! No, he really said it!”
Me: “Yeah, he did.”
Evie: “It’s his first real word!”

He says other things (particularly “Nala”), so I don’t know why this stunned her so much. It’s certainly not his first word, but she just couldn’t get over it. Unfortunately, he can’t get over it either.

“Book? Book?” He won’t say anything else. All day long, “Book? Book?” I couldn’t even get him to stop saying it long enough to eat. It’s the way he says it too, always a question, with the voice rising at the end and the ‘k’ just barely pronounced. “Book? Book?” It’s like the cry of some exotic bird, echoing around our house 24 hours a day. It’s the answer to every question, and the question for every situation. “Oliver, what would you like to eat?” “Book? Book?” “Oliver, say night night!” “Book? Book?” It’s a noun, adjective, verb. It’s Oliver’s equivelent to “smurf.”

I guess there are worse things he could be obsessed with.