Looking at a picture book with Tucker. Jake looked over our shoulders at the red blue and yellow blobs of color on the page. "Where's birthday?" he asked, clearly pleased at his own cleverness. I looked at him blankly. "Where's birthday?" he repeated, then pointing to the plant on the windowsill, cried triumphantly, "There's birthday. There, the plant's birthday." Finally I got it. Remembering how sweet I'd thought it was that he took the spanish "verde" to be "birthday". In a more sober mood now, I thought maybe I should set him straight. So, gently, I explained the "proper" pronounciation of the word. Jacob took it in. Sat quietly a minute and then said softly, "I wish it was birthday. It was funny like that." Oh what a heel I am, thinking him innocent of his own humor. And suddenly I realize that Jake's play with words is not simply a function of his youth, not just silly little baby mistakes. It's an aesthetic thing, he's not going to grow out of it. Jacob's going to be the one who gets my jokes. Yipee!