My kids are not known for being quiet. In fact, their verbosity is sometimes enough to send me cowering in the bathroom with the door locked and pleas of "I'm in the bathroom guys, just give me a minute. . ."tripping off my lips in the hopes that they buy it. Yeah, they talk. A. Lot.
Hand in hand with the amount of time their lips are moving is a fairly extensive vocabulary for their respective ages. Sometimes I take that for granted; I readily admit it. And although they may use words that seem to be a big fit for such a small body, they still have some of that adorable age-appropriate struggle with enunciation. Logan, for example, is still "Wogan" when his not-quite-yet-3-year old sister decides to actually call him by name.
These are the things I'll miss. Long before they head off to college or their own homes leaving mine dreadfully silent, I will miss the little misspoken words and phrases. The ones I try so hard not to repeat back to them no matter how much I want to hear it again and again. It was cute and smile inducing when Logan did it. It's almost cuter now - not because Megan is the "baby" of the house...but because Logan has become her interpreter. It's like living in the UN with the toddler-oozing-into-preschooler nation trying to communicate with the United-Front of Adults and the Kindergartener standing between them to translate into English.
This weekend my new little fish invited us all over to Grandma's house to see his new skill. Logan has decided swimming underwater is actually a very, very, cool thing that should occupy roughly 90% of every hour he's awake. He prefers to swim with goggles on. It's something his sister copies, just as she copies most everything else he does. The original set each kid had was actually more mask than goggle. Logan had upgraded....Megan has not.
"I want my snorple," she demanded as I held her almost treading water body in the pool.
"You're what?" I said, "I'm not sure what that is Meg."
"I want my snorple! I want to put my eyes in," she explained, clearly annoyed at having to repeat herself. "You know. My snorple. Like Brubee. I want my mask and my snorple."
Logan popped up for air at about that moment and said, "She means snorkle. Her mask has a snorkle tube so she can talk when she's underwater."
Of course, because why should we breathe when we can talk?
3 comments:
This brings back a powerful writer's memory: I wrote a column on this for our paper a few years back. At the time, it touched off more feedback from readers than I had ever had before.
In our daughter's case, those really intelligent mammals that swim and do tricks at aquatic shows in Florida were goffins. I can still hear her say it if I close my eyes really tight.
I love how you hold onto the little moments of parenthood and childhood, Sandy. It's a philosophy I empathize with to the depths of my soul.
My daughter calls fireworks "starworks" and I need to write that down, because I think it is the most beautiful thing.
Thanks for this! I've missed your thoughts!
LOL! Too cute
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