Baby Talk - companion piece to "Kathryn and the No Good, Horrible, Very Bad Days"

'Teeden, don't' say 'fruck' say, 'ter-uck.' Can you say 'ter-uck?''

'No I can't say 'ter-uck', I'm still yiddle. When I'm a big boy, I will say 'ter-uck'. But I'm yiddle and I will say 'fruck'. Mommy, can we walk on da frass?'

'After I'm done getting lunch for you and your sister. Look, there's a truck coming.'

'Dere's no fruck on the street, Mommy.'

'Wait a minute and you'll see one, honey.'

'Gaga!' Muffin screamed, pointing to the cupboard. 'Gaga!'

I sipped my beer and pondered the meaning of Gaga.

'Baba!' Muffin screamed.

This I knew was bottle.

'Gaga!' Muffin screamed, pointing to the cupboard.

I opened the cupboard and spied a box of crackers.

'Crackers?

'Gaga!' Muffin was delighted.

'Mommy', Teeden yelled. 'My cup is yost.'

'Your cup is yost? Did you throw it?'

'I frew it under the couch, but it's not dere, Mommy.'

'Try a big boy cup, Teeden.'

'How come Emma doesn't yike water, Mommy?'

I sipped my beer and pondered the adventures of Emma and the toilet.

Yesterday, I had been nursing Muffin with Teeden beside me. I fell asleep momentarily when I heard mewling and the sound of a toilet flushing.

'Come on, Emma. In the toilet,' Teeden said.

Knowing this to be a bad sign, I rushed to the bathroom, where Emma was wet. Knowing Teeden was a good boy, but he didn't know Emma did not care much for water. At 8 pounds, she was small, but too big to flush.

I dried Emma and pondered the meaning of small boys.

Time to change Muffin after lunch. I plucked her from her high chair and into her bedroom we went. I began to change her, when suddenly she said:

'Hogwatch!'

'Hogwatch?' I repeated.

'Hogwatch,' she said, pointing to my wristwatch.

'Have watch? What time is it?' I asked.

'Hogwatch'! She said.

'12:45', I said. 'Time to change for your nap.'

'No sweep,' Muffin said.

Knowing you can't argue with a tired toddler, I began to change her when suddenly she said:

'Mommy, dat's bobwash.'

'Bobwash?'

'Bobwash.' She repeated, struggling to get out of the pajamas I was trying to put on her.

I missed my beer while I pondered the meaning of bobwash.

'No', she said. 'It's bobwash.'

Must be the pajamas. I held them up for her to see.

'Is this bobwash?'

'Dat's not bobwash, Mommy. Dat's jammies.'

I was stuck. Felled by an 18-month old.

I looked at the pajamas. They looked fine to me. I tried again.

'No mommy, da jammies are bobwash.'

The pajamas are bobwash. We were making progress.

I looked  at the pajamas, and had a flash of insight. I turned them right side in, from where they were before: all inside out and backwards.

'Mommy, now da jammies are not bobwash. Now, I will go to sweep.'

I rocked her as I sang songs, kissed her and said nite-nite.

I smiled and pondered the meaning of pajamas turned inside out, all backwards and bobwash.

And had I actually had beer to drink, likely I would have sipped some during these days of early childhood. But I had none, so I went without. 

*     *     * 

This is a companion piece to:

Kathryn and the no-good, horrible, very bad days

I would say that this one is not fiction, but based on what actually happened. I will be back later in the day to fill in a couple of items of baby talk that readers likely won't be able to decipher - such as "hogwatch." 

Copyright (c) Kathryn Esplin-Oleski, 2006, 2007