Suddenly, Gareth took it into his head to pet Sonia. He concentrated all his intent on her and reached for her tail. "Keetay," he said.
"Did you just say kitty?" I asked.
"Dabdabdabdabdab," he replied. I decided to take that for a yes.
When I called Dan to tell him the Big News, he said, "Oh, yeah, he said that before you got up this morning, too. When I had him for the dawn shift, he was in his exersaucer in the kitchen, watching Sonia eat, and he said, 'Keetay.'"
So I called my mom to tell her the Big News. While I was talking to her, Sonia came and sprawled right in front of Gareth. He grabbed her tail, hanks of her fur, her feet. She just rolled around in cat bliss. Despite our attempts to cue him--"Is that your kitty, Gareth? Do you like your KITTY?"--he wouldn't say his new word for my mother. "Oh, well," said mom, "I guess I should start making dinner."
And the second after we got off the phone, what do you suppose Gareth said?
Ah, well. I'm satisfied, more than satisfied, that my seven and a half month old baby said an identifiable word in its correct context three times in one day. If he doesn't want an audience yet, that's his prerogative.