What's Your Name?

For all the words Grace knows how to say, the one important word she refused to say was her name. I would practice with her.

Me: My name is Mama. Your name is Grace. What's my name?
Grace: Mama.
Me: Good job! And what's your name?
Grace: (a 'cricket, cricket' kind of silence)

Hanging above her changing table are the hanging letters Mike made that spell her name. Every time I'm changing her, I'd say, "There's your name- Virginia Grace. That's you! What's your name?" Again, silence. Sometimes she'll laugh and wag her finger at me because she knows she's not supposed to touch them. Not that it stops her. She'll still try to pull them down at every opportunity.

Finally, during one of our practice sessions yesterday, she actually answered my question! Sometimes she says her name is 'Gace' (minus the 'r' and sounds like gays) and sometimes it's 'Race' (minus the 'g'). But it's close enough for me!

We spent some time at the pool today. I've discovered that my child inherited her daddy's quick tanning ability. I slathered her with SPF 50, she wore a rashguard swimsuit with SPF 50 built in, we sat in the shade when she wasn't in the water, and I tried to keep a sunhat on her head. Despite my best efforts, when we got home, the child was tanned! By the time we leave Florida, we are going to look like a couple of tropical natives. Which we kind of are, I suppose, with our Filipino blood. But what's funny is that Filipinos born and raised in the Philippines don't like to get tanned! To them, the paler, the better. Go figure.