"He said a new word today," Anne said happily as Gilbert came in.
"He did?!" Gilbert came right over to the baby in Anne's arms. Every new word was such news, Gilbert was so delighted he forgot to take off his coat or even set any of his things down.
Gilbert was happy, but then shook his head. "I miss everything."
Anne nodded sympathetically. "Well, you have to be gone during the day, you can't help that- you can't be with him every minute, the way I can. I do hate that you missed the first time he crawled and the first time he walked, though. That was exciting, and I wish you could have been there for it."
Gilbert swallowed, remembering that he had actually been the one to see Walter crawl first. It had been at his house, when he took Walter away to work on his Valentine present. He had never told Anne she missed that moment, and he never would: He allowed her to believe that the first time she had seen him crawl was the first time he'd ever done it.
His voice bright, he moved on: "What's his new word?"
Anne nodded happily. "Say your new word, Walter."
But Walter didn't say his new word. He just reached for Gilbert, proclaiming, "Guh-buh!"
Gilbert laughed and took him in his arms.
"It was 'ball'," Anne told him. "I said 'Walter, roll your ball to mama,' and he rolled it to me, and when I rolled it back, he said...Ball."
Anne's face looked as if Walter had just been awarded a Baccalaureate. "Now he can say twenty-two words," she said happily.
"You know exactly how many words he can say?" Gilbert was amused.
Anne nodded. "Of course. I made a list."
"A list?" Gilbert asked, a smile playing on his lips.
"Remember that book I started for him?"
What Gilbert remembered was that Anne had complained Marilla was forcing her to create a memory book for her unwanted baby, and that she had no desire to remember anything about this awful time in her life, and had actually muttered 'I can think of better uses for paper'.
But Gilbert wisely did not remind her of that.
"Yes, I remember," was all he said.
Anne took the book out. It looked very different from how Gilbert remembered it. It seemed Anne cared a lot more than she used to.
In the beginning, the book was hastily cut and glued together and tied with ribbon, but all that was in it was Walter's birth certificate and his church record.
Now, the cover was decorated with pictures of flowers and cherubs Anne had cut out from a magazine, and the inside was full of her writing- it seemed she now had a written account of every moment of her baby's life.
Gilbert couldn't help wondering if Anne had gotten a little creative when it came to re-telling her story, in order to gloss over the parts where she spent several months being angry that she even had a baby, and wanting nothing more than for him to go away from her.
He felt sure there was no mention of the children's home she thought of leaving him at, or the Warren family she almost gave him away to.
And he himself would never speak a word of it: The only thing that mattered was Walter knowing how much he was loved now.
Anne opened the book and turned to a page in which she had started a list. Gilbert leaned in to see. "Walter's first words," it was labeled.
"Do you really write down every time he says a new word?"
"Of course," Anne said proudly. "And I write down the date, too, so I remember exactly when he first said them!"
Gilbert smiled at her, happy that she was happy.
"It would have been nice if his first word had been mama, instead of Gilbert," Anne said under her breath, "But one can't have everything."
"He said mama as soon as he knew how to," Gilbert promised, looking lovingly into her eyes.
Anne smiled back at him, and for a moment it felt like they were alone.
But Walter was pulling on Anne's braids again.
"He's always grabbing at my hair," she complained, coming out of the moment and pulling her braids from the grasp of his chubby little hands.
"It's cute," Gilbert smiled.
"It was cute. The first hundred times," Anne sighed.
But then a sly smile came upon her face and she said, "At least when he grabs my braids, he doesn't say 'carrots'."
"That will be his next word, then," Gilbert announced. "I'll teach it to him in secret."
"You wouldn't dare," she said, laughing.
"Oh yes I would," he said teasingly, scooping Walter up and looking into his little face. "Walter, say 'carrots'. Carrots, Walter. Come on, you can do it."
"Give me back my baby," Anne demanded. "Walter, Gilbert is teaching you to say bad words. Don't listen to him."
"Carrots isn't a bad word," Gilbert laughed. "Carrots is the most beautiful word there is."
And he kissed her on her cheek.