Dylan speaks his own language. He invents words--some are based on the sounds from an actual word (like "ga" for "sock"), and some are completely Dylanisms (like "chick-a-wawa", which is anything that hurts). Most of the words he uses, I don't bother to correct, yet, but I use the right word.
For example, "baba" is water, or any liquid. Could be in a cup, the rain coming down, or filling up the pool. If he points and says, "Baba!", I respond with something along the lines of, "Yes, that water is rain. It's raining. This water is called rain." The one word we've kept is chickawawa; because it sounds so cool and because there really isn't a good replacement word in English except maybe "owie", which isn't nearly as cool as chickawawa.
The really cool thing about using chickawawa is that I can use it to warn Dylan not to touch something. Like today, I explained that he can pet Figaro, but petting Midnight will result in a chickawawa. He won't go near Midnight, now.
The set of words that Dylan has had the most trouble with are relationship words; mom, dad, grandpa, and grandma specifically. When he finally mastered mom ("mama"), everyone he loved was "mama". Next, he conquired grandpa ("dada"). Then, came "dahdee", which is reserved for his own papa. But, during this development, neither of his granmothers were around. So, when we came to visit Boise, and he once again found himself spending large amounts of time with my mom, he didn't know what to call her. He tried on "mama", but that wasn't working because I would respond. He tried on "dada", but that didn't work out for him, either. Finally, he settled on "dadamama", signifying that grandma is a bit of mom and a bit of grandpa all rolled into one.
Here he is painting dadamama's fingernails.
We love to scream and squeel and growl and laugh with our heads back and our mouths wide open! With Dylan, anything can turn into a giggle-fest at any moment. Maybe it's the way I shake my head to keep the mosquitoes away, or how Shasha jumps after the ball, or even just the way I tilt my head and give him "the eyes". It could strike at any time, and I have to be ready to repeat that action until I absolutely can't stand to do it one more time.
Today, we couldn't play in the pool because someone--a racoon, a cat, a dog, who knows?--popped it over night. So, I set up the sprinklers and we ran through them until we were soaked clean through. 
But, I don't want to raise some kind of adrenaline junkie. I want to raise a boy who can sit quietly and listen to the birds, can slow down to notice the ladybug on a leaf. So, we also spend time observing the small...the quiet. Today, it was goatsbeard. When goatsbeard has gone to seed, it produces a puff-ball that is like a fantastic supersized dandilion. Each little tuft is a good half-inch across and is woven like a spider-web net. 
This year is especially green. The late winter followed by extra rain through June has left the world here green and lush. Today, I sat out on the porch and looked out over the yard, sipping on a diet Pepsi while I participated in a conference call. That world feels a million miles away. 
I get all warm and fuzzy watching Dylan interract with my parents. He is so eager to help in any way he can. He helps Grandma pick strawberries, he helps Grandpa bring up lumber for the project. He loves to be a part of it all.
