Lydia has no words. Not a one. She babbles Dada, mostly, but throws in a lot of other jumble to go along with it.
Jeremy is Da DA! I am Dadada! The dogs are Bwaaaaa Dadada with a hand waving in the air signaling that she would like to pet them. Kyra is a point and grunt. The door is DADA! The television is DadadaDAda.
You get the idea. Dada is the universal word for any particular person, place or thing. It seems to be the only noun in her vocabulary.
Except today. We're kneeling there, silently observing Father and the whole consecration thing that is unfolding before us. Lydia, in Jer's arms, points to Father and quietly babbles Dada as he holds the bread in the air, blessing it. As soon as he begins to bring it down and kneel, Lydia points again and says, oh so very clearly, JE SUS.
I SHIT YOU NOT.
Jer and I looked instantly to each other, both mouthing the words, DID SHE JUST SAY JESUS?!
My lovely, dear child WHO REFUSES TO CALL ME MAMA apparently knows when Jesus is in the room.
I feel a bit shafted.