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My name cannot be the first word out of her mouth. Right? It should be mama or dada, the two words we’ve all been so painstakingly trying to teach her.
Her bottom lip quivers as she says it again. “Tett.”
I break, standing and scooping her up in my arms. “Come here, sweetheart.”
I stare into her big blue eyes. She pats my chest, saying my name again. Pride and love fill my heart, knowing my name is the very first word she’s chosen to say.
Guilt rises in me as well. An opposing emotion to the one I first felt. Part of me wishes I could put the word back in her rosebud lips. Make sure she says mama or dada instead. The other side of me knows that I will never, ever, forget the magic of this moment.
“That’s right,” I whisper to her. “I’m Rhett. And you are Rose.”
I think of Ashely feeding Rose in her highchair, painstakingly trying to coax her little girl into saying “mama.”
What do I do? Do I tell everyone she’s said her first word, and it’s me? Or do I keep this to myself and hope it was a one-off thing, or that I’ve misheard her.
She tugs on a strand of my hair. “Tett. My Tett Tett.”
Oh boy.
My heart absolutely melts at her words.
“I’m your Tett and you’re our little Rosie. Now let’s go find Mama.” Maybe if I keep saying “mama,” she’ll catch on and say it before we find Ashely. There’s not a dishonest bone in my body. I’m going to have to share the news. I just hope it doesn’t cause any hurt feelings. I carry her through the house, looking for the others. “Everyone is going to be so proud of you!”
“Tett, Tett, Tett, Tett,” she sings as we go.
I kiss her cheek. “You’re just too sweet. Aren’t you?”
She points to her cup, grunting as we pass by the kitchen island. I hand it to her. She takes a few long, dramatic swigs.
“Those three little steps you took sure made you thirsty!”
Smacking her lips, she nods in agreement.
Ashely, Boston, and Beckett are out on the back patio. We grill out every week after Beckett’s baseball rec league game. Ashely sits at the table, sipping a white wine spritzer. Boston’s manning the grill, flipping a steak.
The scent of garlic-seasoned beef reaches me. It smells delicious but my stomach flips over, worried and excited over the news we’re about to share.
“Hey, girls.” Beckett glances up from the little push bike he’s putting together, parts and tools neatly lined up on the concrete patio. “What have you two been up to?”
He stands to greet me with a kiss, brushing off his jeans as he rises.
“Oh, not too much. Just working on our steps.” I look from Rose to Ashely and back to Rose. “And someone decided to say their first word.”
“What? Seriously?” Ashely pops up from her seat, rushing over to us.
“That’s our girl,” Boston says.
I transfer Rose from my arms to hers. “Yup.”
“What was it?” Ashely looks from Rose to me.
Rose smiles, giving her mother her grunt that means hello.
“Um…” I glance at Rose. “Maybe it’s best to show you. Can you put her down?”
I move to the other side of the patio. Ashely puts Rose down on her little pink Mary Janes.
I kneel down, patting my thighs. “Can you walk to me, Rosie?”
