So I'm sitting in my office this weekend, diligently working on a report, when I overhear the following conversation coming from our family room:

Vincent: "BluhLaGlLoooooBLewbUbBWoo" (insert tinky-toy background noise)
Edwin: "You have a point, but I disagree"
Vincent: "BlewBubbubwaoob" (insert sound of assertive thump of tinky-toy)
Edwin: "Then what happened?"
Vincent: "Bblluhoooooooo"
Edwin: "Seriously?"

This conversation made me giggle. Vincent has had one love during the recent weeks - his own voice. It's a wonderful and oh-so cherished sound. I often find myself staring at him as if he is explaining the next great mathematical discovery. He often stands in his jumper and focuses on the plastic toys hanging within arms reach and continues to touch each one methodically: all the while exclaiming his discovery. "whhoblooyhuhuhhoooooo-uuuuhhhbbblooob" Almost like he's conveying secrets to each of them, "and you, I'll get you out of this joint at midnight..no funny business or I'll tell the elephant..."

And for some reason, as I hear Vincent's daily rants of incoherency, my mind seems to confidently interpret his babbles. Take today's conversation for example:

Vincent: "bllogghuHuh"

Me: "Yes, that toy does taste like feet"

Vincent: "Bbbblluchkmmmeeehuh"

Me: "Well then, he's obviously not a friend of yours and I can't believe you lent him our lawn mower."

Vincent: "bluhblewbubbmwuah"

Me: "Hey, don't yell at me. You're the one who wanted to make friends with the neighborhod kid with the pool in his backyard"

Vincent: "Bubbbbbtherpthth ... thuummm"

Me: "ham or turkey?"