Sunday, November 12, 2006

Uncle Who?

We made a not so conscious decision when E was born to more or less talk to her like a person. To use normal words when speaking to hear, and to avoid, as much as possible, using "baby voices". Like I said, it wasn't something we discussed and agreed on. It just happened. Several of my friends commented to me early on that when Ella started talking, I should watch out, because I talked to her just like she was an adult. I didn't even realize I was doing this until they pointed it out to me.

For those of you who have encountered our two year old daughter in the past few months, you will likely attest to the fact that language skills, she does not lack. In short, she's quite the talker. Our parents just giggle with glee when they see us gasping with exasperation as we answer her fortieth question in a matter of minutes. Apparently both her father and I were the same as wee tots.

This "decision" to talk to her as an adult, and use correct terminology for the things in her world, is called into question when you have conversations such as these:

E: Where's you uncle?

Me: My What?

E: You Uncle! (As she proceeds to search in the vicinity of her belly button, as if something is missing. I had no idea what she was talking about. )

Later while she was sitting on the toilet, she continued her quest about the "uncle".

E: "Mommy, where's you uncle?"

Me: "My uncle? Which one? Verlin? Brian? Jon?" (YES, I have an uncle VERLIN!!)

E: "Noooo, you (She lifts her shirt, points to her chest, pauses to form the words.) "!"

Me: OH! My nipple!

And suddenly our commitment (or my insistence) that we call all body parts by their correct name is called into question.

Do I even need to tell you how much glee this has brought her father? Probably not!

Speaking of her father, I'm sure if you know him well at all, you are quite certain that our not even 2.5 year old is already up to date on the entire lexicon of profanities. Quite the contrary! He has been the picture of restraint, and I am fairly certain I've never heard a true profanity uttered from her little mouth minus when she used to call "French Fries" "fuckies" for no apparent reason.

So last night, when she dropped a bite of her dinner on the floor, and started hollering, "What the heck? What the heck?", my husband looked at me and declared, "You KNOW I didn't teach her that one. Because if it were me, it would not have been 'heck'!"

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