The Comet likes to communicate in semaphore.
Don’t get me wrong, she’s just as vocal as the Star ever was. She coos, she gurgles, she murmurs, she rasps, she snorts and she wiffles.
But when she’s having a conversation with you, making her point, pausing for your contribution and replying with vigor, she pinwheels her legs energetically and punctuates her utterances with emphatic arm waving. The body language, combined as it is with the impressive grasp of the art of turn-taking, amuses you.
Babushka amuses the Comet.
It was strange and quite the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, watching a baby learn how to laugh*. There she was, doing her usual delighted wide open-mouthed smile as your MiL gurned at her and said, brightly, ‘aGOO! aGOO! aGOOaGOOaGOO! aGOO! aGOOaGOOaGOOaGOOaGOO! aGOO!’ and suddenly, her soft, throaty cluck of delight turned into a soft, throaty chuckle. Barely there, but quite distinct nonetheless.
Since then her family has been competing with each other to get her to do it again. She likes it when Papa imitates her snuffles. She finds the Star endlessly entertaining.
And she giggles for Mama when she sings.
*You do not remember the Star learning to laugh. Possibly you weren’t there. *sulks*