Reflecting on First Words

Thanks to everyone for your kind comments on my hat.  I've set it aside and am gathering brown yarn at the moment for some plant life experiments.

     For some reason I have been about thinking about first words for the past few days.
     Funny then that just this morning I read that Humphrey Bogart's last words were, "I should have never switched from scotch to martinis."  !
     Who knows what last words actually are--last last words, or last words to a particular person?  And they are kind of mythical aren't they?  Like, who actually can testify that these are the last words?  Supposedly they reveal a person's character.  But first words are sort of like that too I think, though the witness of these words is usually a little more solid.  After all, first words are usually known by someone's mother or father or grandmother.
     My first son is very different in character from my second son, though they do share similarities.
     My oldest son's first word was "more" followed a few days later by "outside."  These words are so much his personality!  He is NOT an indoors sit around kind of guy.  He has always loved to be outdoors doing something physical--like digging or building or hunting snakes. One year--he was about six--his friend gave him a shovel for his birthday, the perfect gift.  When Halloween came, he never thought to buy his costume, he made it.  Once he was a volcano.  For the past many years he spends every possible hour skateboarding.  Literally, he always wants more out of life.  Here are some pictures he has sent me:

An Eastern Glass Lizard--We have tons of reptilian photos like this

     My second son's first words were "ball" and "bubble," both of which he was crazy about when he began to speak.  He never has been a sports or "ball" person though, so "bubble" fits him more.  He is calm and gentle and not really physical.  He is an excellent observer.   There is a picture of him here fishing, which he is good at because fishing is a patient person's sport. (Unlike his brother who kept casting and reeling in and casting and reeling in and after five minutes decided he didn't like "this game.")   My second son has a delightful sense of humor and a happy demeanor.  When he was small--well still--I never wanted to yell at him because it hurt his feelings and he did not mean to be bad or disappoint me. 

     I'm really lucky to have both of these wonderful children.

     Lore has it that my first word was "cigarette."  I remember smoking a cigarette at the rodeo when I was just as tall as my dad's knee, hanging on to it and the top of the wooden bleacher he and my mother were sitting on.  I know this sounds terrible, but I think it was more they put it in my mouth and were highly amused, so much so that I remember the incident--or at least I think I do.  They were only about twenty years old at the time, and it was back in the olden days before the surgeon general's warning and etc.  I never have become a smoker, but "cigarette" is a kind of lovely three syllable French sounding word.  So perhaps this first word was an example of my hardwiring toward linguistics.  Why not?