We have quite a history with words in our family. Family lore has it that when I was three, I used to strut around informing anyone who would listen that I had "an extensive vocabulary." I also received a dictionary -- not a child's dictionary, mind you, a Merriam Webster Collegiate Dictionary -- and once I had learned to read I used to sit and read it as if it were Little Red Riding Hood.
What is it they say about apples and trees and such?
Anyway, Gabby informed me the other day that "When I was little, my favorite color was pink, but now that I'm a big girl my favorite color is fuchsia."
She has also started imitating our habit of spelling out words we don't want to say in front of her. Right now, her strings of letters don't actually spell anything, but I imagine we're going to have to learn Latvian pretty soon if we want to stay a step ahead of her.
And Dylan, being no slouch in the word department himself, grabbed Gabby's bottle of milk from her hands this morning, held it up in the air, and proudly said, "Bobble!"
Poor Mike will be lucky to get a word in edgewise around here.
 Yes, yes, she's using multisyllabic words correctly in sentences but she still likes her bottle of milk in the a.m. What can I say? She's not potty trained, either. Too focused on learning new words, obviously.