As a 3-year-old, L’s pronunciation is markedly better than it was just a few months ago. I’m surprised how sad I feel when each toddler-speak word is replaced by the real thing in his vocabulary. Recently, he learned to pronounce his own name properly. Although, this will make playground introductions a lot less frustrating for him, I’m so sad to lose his cute, completely incomprehensible and unique language.
Despite his improvements in this area, my little emerging elocutionist still cannot converse so well with Nana. Between L’s remaining mispronunciations and Nana’s accent and use of different words, like “tea” to mean “dinner,” they have some peculiar conversations. Nevertheless, they are like peas in a pod. My worries around their relationship were entirely unfounded; about 10 seconds after their reunion, they were fast friends. (It’s been a year since Nana’s last visit.) Whew!
Listening to L’s and Nana’s strange conversations has me thinking about L’s history with language. I expected his first word to be ‘mama.’ Doesn’t every first time mom? But instead, it was ‘milk.’ Well, he said “mah.” His second word was not mama either. It was ‘up.’ That’s when my husband decided to teach him the word ‘open.’ Why a baby needs the word ‘open’ as his third word is beyond me, but T was hell-bent to teach it. He would carry L around opening every door and cabinet repeating “oh-pen, oh-pen, oooh-pen….” Soon L actually got it! Unfortunately, this muti-syllabic leap ruined all other words for him. Milk went from “mah” to “mah-em,” up from “up” to “up-em.” Every word L learned from then on was broken down to its first sound and then finished with “em.” This made him impossible to understand.
He continued in this bizarre vein until one day, he picked up a brand new word. He said it with precision and used it appropriately. A dropped sippy cup, a frustrating puzzle piece or a bumped head was promptly met with my cherubic toddler exclaiming, “Shit!” This turned more than one head and I pathetically stammered something like “that’s right, L, you are sitting,” or “sit, please, Mommy. Ask nicely.” I can’t imagine I fooled anyone.
As I write this L and Nana are in the other room preparing dinner together, roast chicken and vegetables. Nana keeps using the word roast; L is wondering when they’re going to get to putting everything in rows. L asks to cut the “vebidles” and Nana replies that they’ve already added enough pepper. Both are happy.
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