Theme week 3

Sitting at the computer, I look around my living room. The electric fireplace is going even though it's 65 degrees outside. There is no heat, just a fake blue and orange flame that somehow makes me feel cozy. The baby is on the floor, trying with all his might to grab that illusive toy dangling over his head. Grady is keeping himself busy with the second shelf of the bookshelf. It is just his height, perfect for taking all the 'Harry Potter' books off.  He lines them up on the floor, and walks across them like a bridge. He runs over to me as if he is going to burst with anticipation.
'buhgret teme sew sew mama?' His eyebrows are furled, head cocked to one side, and his shoulders are up to his chin. It must be a very important question to require such body language and gibberish.
'Yeah Grady, of course.' I say, assuming he is not asking to run with scissors. He returns to his Potter bridge and says to himself,
'two, four, fiye, sits, seyin, eight, mama, twelve.' His ascew counting coorilates with his wobbly steps to the next book in line.
'Grady, are you counting?'
'Yesh'
I decide to try and help him get past that difficult 'mama', which I can never figure out if it is ten or eleven. I guess if I were to be a number, it would be nice to be a ten. I prompt, 'One...'
Before I can finish he yells, 'Two' at the top of his lungs.
'Three..'
'Four'
'Five...'
'Sits'
At this point his hips sway with every number. A sort of counting dance that he does when he's really in the groove. 'Seven..'
'Eight'
'Nine..'
'Mama'
A smile creeps across my face. So I am a ten. I continue to see just how far this groove will take him, 'Eleven.."
'Twelve'
'Thirteen...'
He cocks his head to the side with a defying look on his face, 'Twelve'
I guess he is done with this counting business. I end our little lesson with a 'YAY, great job Grady!' Per usual, but by this time he is already distracted by Harry.