One of Riley's favorite phrases lately is "Doing?" As in, "Doing, Mommy? Doing?"
Wow, the more I type that the more it looks like it should rhyme with 'boing', but it's do-ing, as in "WHAT ARE YOU DOING MOMMY HUH HUH HUH HUH DOING DOING DOING DOING?"
Here's me, all day long:
"I'm cooking dinner, Riley."
"I'm putting garbage in the garbage bag, Riley."
"I'm feeding the cat, Riley."
"I'm losing my damn mind over here, Riley, can you maybe say something else?"
(Riley, switching gears slightly after hearing a noise outside: "What was dat, Mommy? What was DAT?")
I love that my kid is talking so much and we're actually able to communicate on a fairly sophisticated level (well, comparatively, I mean we aren't sitting around discussing the finer points of Coen brothers movies or anything but it's a nice change from the caveman-esque grunts, screams, and arm gestures that defined the 18 Month Zone), but duuuuude. Doing. Doing. Doing.
The upside, though, is that Riley can now be programmed to pester JB. "Psssst," I'll say to him. "Go ask Daddy what he's doing." And off he'll run.
"DOING, DADDY? DOOOOOING?"
Sure, that may sound mean, but JB is the one who taught Riley to "slime" Mommy (ie, wipe his mouth and nose on my pants). I think I deserve some major retaliation for that one.