My kid’s first word was cookie.
But not “cookie” all sweet like. No, it was a growl, like The Cookie Monster on day three of the Sugar Busters diet.
Since that day he first growled his request for a snack, his vocabulary has increased quite a bit. He has many words for food (no surprise there) and knows all the names of his family, dogs included.
He’s begun to form sentences, sing songs and give commands.
He’s basically a hungry, musical dictator.
Usually I’m too busy marveling at the miracle of learning that’s always taking place in his head to notice that I’m being bossed around by someone who can’t reach the light switch, so it’s ok though.
We’ve had a few mishaps with language learning this year, mostly adult words that he picks up on accident.
No sweat though, I just substitute something else when he repeats our expletives.
“Yes, son, that is a nice SHIRT you’re wearing. Is that your SHIRT? I like your SHIRT.”
See? Easy enough to redirect since his speech isn’t that clear in the first place.
Today though, I forgot to do something and said, “CRAP,” really loudly.
“Crap!” he repeated. “Crap. Crap. CRAP.”
Clear as a bell, no baby talk there.
We’ve decided to use proper words for body parts with our son. So it’s penis, and boy, do I get tired of saying penis. You know when you say a word so many times it loses meaning?
Penis. Penis. Penis.
Monkey likes to climb in my lap sometimes and touch my face, naming the parts of it. It’s very sweet, as long as he’s gentle when he gets to “eyes.”
“Cheeks. Chin. Mowwwwwth. Hair. Eeeehs.”
And then he gets to my “beauty mark” on my temple.
“MOLE,” he says, and my husband chimes in.
“MOLEY MOLEY MOLE!”
Thanks, Austin Powers.
Somehow, the kid picked up the word “boobs.” He uses it in the correct context. I’m so…proud?
“Yes, son. Those are mama’s boobs. Leave them be, please.”
“Mama? ‘Dose Dada’s boobs.”
Well. I guess we know where he learned that word after all, don’t we?
Some words he misses completely. No matter how hard we try, he either can’t or won’t pronounce them correctly. So to hell with it, we’ve renamed a few things.
Blanket is “gocky.”
Diapers (Pull Ups) are “boppies.”
Lawnmower is “mow car.” Makes sense, yes?
Oh, and all boys aged six to 13 are named “Josh.” My nephew, the one actually named Josh, gets a kick out of that.
Manners are important to us here. “Please” and “thank you” came not long after his first cookie
demand request. “Sorry” he picked up after he learned to throw.
I figure “excuse me” should be next, but I can’t stop laughing after he farts at the table long enough to teach it to him, and we still clap when he belches. Parents of the year, I tell you.
What “new” words has your family adopted? What words do you wish your kids never learned?
On Tuesday, May 15th, I am going to attempt to climb the Mt. Everest of blog commenting and visit every damn one of the linkers at YeahWrite #57. This will require lots of caffeine and cooperative children who take long naps. Also several episodes of Backyardigans.