The Little Man is doing a fabulous job trying to learn new words. He's been repeating about everything we say, with varied success with pronunciation. (And no, this is not where I talk about the huge cursing rant I just had. Even though I just did. But he gets bored with those words.)
Friday we were playing on the floor and all of a sudden he says "Hum-mer. Hum-mer." Completely out of the blue. He was playing with a truck at the time, so it wasn't a stretch to go the "vehicle" route with the meaning. Instead my mind went the "have you been watching pron at daycare again?" route**. Sadly enough, that's the first place his dad's mind went when I told him about our Word of the Day after work. Great minds and all.
Luckily, I wasn't left in the dark long (nor forced to set the parental controls on Tivo). Saturday I was fixing lunch and he looked up at me and said "Hummer! Hummer!" A bulb finally flipped on and I asked if he was hungry and he said "Mmmmm, hmmmmm. Hummer!" And I laughed that shaky, relieved laugh. I can see his new word having a long life in our family.
Hummer, anyone?
**Those of you who don't "get" this post, God bless you. I'm happy there are still folks like you around.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
What are you teaching that kid?
The Little Man has been jabbering up a storm for several months now. He's actually the most vocally adept member of his little daycare (I'm not thinking that means anything necessarily, but it sounds cool). His skill level varies day to day - the words go in and out, sometimes he'll add 2 or 3 words in a day and actually use words for many of the things he wants. The next day, he promptly forget them all and goes back to his standard of using "ba" for all nouns but Mommy and Daddy.
In a vain attempt to coax my child into talking before he's good and ready, I tried a little home schooling the other night. The Little Man pointed to a cat in the book we were reading and said "Ba! Ba!" Now I KNOW he can say 'cat' because he is obsessed with our cats and he has been saying it for months. So I said "No, 'cat', 'ca-ca-cat'". And he laughed and repeated "Ca-ca-cat!" And then turned the page and said "du-du-duck."
And now he stutters about 70% of the time. Damn. With me providing the parental education, I'll have to slip the teacher a $50 to get the poor kid into kindergarten.
In a vain attempt to coax my child into talking before he's good and ready, I tried a little home schooling the other night. The Little Man pointed to a cat in the book we were reading and said "Ba! Ba!" Now I KNOW he can say 'cat' because he is obsessed with our cats and he has been saying it for months. So I said "No, 'cat', 'ca-ca-cat'". And he laughed and repeated "Ca-ca-cat!" And then turned the page and said "du-du-duck."
And now he stutters about 70% of the time. Damn. With me providing the parental education, I'll have to slip the teacher a $50 to get the poor kid into kindergarten.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Little Critic
Last week, my cousin-in-law's father passed away. This is my cousin's wife's father - no actual relation, but I'm close to her, so I wanted to go to the funeral even though I'd never actaully met him. Try explaining that to co-workers - "So it's your cousin's father . . . your uncle, then? No? How did that go again?" They were gracious enough to let me off, and even use berevement leave for the day, but I'm not sure any of them understood the relationship.
ANYWAY, I attended a funeral and got to play with my cousin's twins (extra bonus) and sing in the service (not so much of a bonus, especially for the listeners).
Our family - my folks and my brothers - have always been "the musical family". The quotes here indicate that though other family members think we're the Von Trapps, or maybe the Partridge family, it's so not true. My mom made sure we all had piano lessons (and trumpet and cello and saxaphone and singing for me). We've all done our stint singing in church, and mom's always a pianist or organist in whatever church she's in. My older brother can play any instrument he meets, and plays some local clubs from time to time. He and my mom are both quite talented. My younger brother spent a year singing with Up With People, but I've never actually heard him sing so the jury's still out there. My dad and I are normally passable enough to not deserve to be yanked off stage by a giant hook as long as the genre doesn't steer far from a hymnal. I guess we must not be as bad as I think, because this was the 3rd or 4th funeral I've sung in and I haven't been blacklisted yet.
So we start practicing the night before the service. Mom starts cranking at the piano, and my dad and I start wailing away at The Old Rugged Cross. In the middle of the first verse, in races the Little Man. Screaming. I picked him up, he starts hitting me in the face to get me to stop Stop STOP!!!
We paused, and I explained to him that it was just a rehearsal and that it really would get better. He calmed down. We started back up. And so did he. Going to each of us in turn - putting his little hands under Grandma's bottom to Get Up, and trying to hit Grandpa and I to get us to Shut Up. His dad eventually made him stay in the basement to play because the Music Critic showed up every time we started singing.
He stopped letting me sing lullabyes to him about 6 months ago with similar violent tactics, but I didn't figure he'd do the same thing to his grandparents who he ADORES. Alas, The Critic was more prominent than I had thought.
As we practiced, it became more and more evident that we hadn't sung together for several years. We ended the night sounding ok though my dad's voice was failing and my mom's cold was getting the better of her. The next morning, we didn't have a chance to practice before the service and, though my folks got several compliments on the "lovely music", and I'm sure the family appreciated our effort, I'm inclined to think that the Little Man has a better ear than I gave him credit for.
ANYWAY, I attended a funeral and got to play with my cousin's twins (extra bonus) and sing in the service (not so much of a bonus, especially for the listeners).
Our family - my folks and my brothers - have always been "the musical family". The quotes here indicate that though other family members think we're the Von Trapps, or maybe the Partridge family, it's so not true. My mom made sure we all had piano lessons (and trumpet and cello and saxaphone and singing for me). We've all done our stint singing in church, and mom's always a pianist or organist in whatever church she's in. My older brother can play any instrument he meets, and plays some local clubs from time to time. He and my mom are both quite talented. My younger brother spent a year singing with Up With People, but I've never actually heard him sing so the jury's still out there. My dad and I are normally passable enough to not deserve to be yanked off stage by a giant hook as long as the genre doesn't steer far from a hymnal. I guess we must not be as bad as I think, because this was the 3rd or 4th funeral I've sung in and I haven't been blacklisted yet.
So we start practicing the night before the service. Mom starts cranking at the piano, and my dad and I start wailing away at The Old Rugged Cross. In the middle of the first verse, in races the Little Man. Screaming. I picked him up, he starts hitting me in the face to get me to stop Stop STOP!!!
We paused, and I explained to him that it was just a rehearsal and that it really would get better. He calmed down. We started back up. And so did he. Going to each of us in turn - putting his little hands under Grandma's bottom to Get Up, and trying to hit Grandpa and I to get us to Shut Up. His dad eventually made him stay in the basement to play because the Music Critic showed up every time we started singing.
He stopped letting me sing lullabyes to him about 6 months ago with similar violent tactics, but I didn't figure he'd do the same thing to his grandparents who he ADORES. Alas, The Critic was more prominent than I had thought.
As we practiced, it became more and more evident that we hadn't sung together for several years. We ended the night sounding ok though my dad's voice was failing and my mom's cold was getting the better of her. The next morning, we didn't have a chance to practice before the service and, though my folks got several compliments on the "lovely music", and I'm sure the family appreciated our effort, I'm inclined to think that the Little Man has a better ear than I gave him credit for.
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Posts You've Missed
Here are reports of posts you've missed, primarily because they were written only in my head. If I actually posted as much as I think about posting, this would be a much more interesting place to visit.
FIRST BLOOD
The story of the Little Man's first wound. Chock-full of all the things that make a good drama great - loss of balance, weeping, lots and lots of blood, crying mothers, and grandpas who save the day and make it all better. Notable quotes: "I've finally found something in parenting that instantly makes me lose it - blood on pastel footie pajamas." and "Ironically, the Little Man couldn't have chosen a more boyish wound. It's strategically placed and timed so that he'll look like he has a boogie hanging out of his nose in all of the Christmas photos."
CHRISTMAS FUN
An enchanting pictorial of a giant, noisy, confusing lovely family Christmas. Replete with tales of all five Christmas adventures we undertook, with an in-depth look at the one at my parents' where the living room ended up filled with people, and gifts, and torn paper, and excited kids and babies, just the way I like it. Includes some commentary on "the Little Man received metric tons of toys" and "Where are we going to put all this crap?"
FLOATIES
Commentary on the Little Man's recent predilection for pooing in the tub. Includes thoughts on 'Mommy doesn't think she should be the one to clean and sterilize after each instance even though she ends up doing it.' and 'How, if you know what you're looking for, this can be good practice for pooing in the potty if you can whisk the kid out of the tub and onto the potty fast enough' Notable quote "And then from the bathroom I hear the little brother say 'Why are there little brown things floating in the tub?'"
A Happy New Year to you all, and here's to my blog being more entertaining in the year to come.
FIRST BLOOD
The story of the Little Man's first wound. Chock-full of all the things that make a good drama great - loss of balance, weeping, lots and lots of blood, crying mothers, and grandpas who save the day and make it all better. Notable quotes: "I've finally found something in parenting that instantly makes me lose it - blood on pastel footie pajamas." and "Ironically, the Little Man couldn't have chosen a more boyish wound. It's strategically placed and timed so that he'll look like he has a boogie hanging out of his nose in all of the Christmas photos."
CHRISTMAS FUN
An enchanting pictorial of a giant, noisy, confusing lovely family Christmas. Replete with tales of all five Christmas adventures we undertook, with an in-depth look at the one at my parents' where the living room ended up filled with people, and gifts, and torn paper, and excited kids and babies, just the way I like it. Includes some commentary on "the Little Man received metric tons of toys" and "Where are we going to put all this crap?"
FLOATIES
Commentary on the Little Man's recent predilection for pooing in the tub. Includes thoughts on 'Mommy doesn't think she should be the one to clean and sterilize after each instance even though she ends up doing it.' and 'How, if you know what you're looking for, this can be good practice for pooing in the potty if you can whisk the kid out of the tub and onto the potty fast enough' Notable quote "And then from the bathroom I hear the little brother say 'Why are there little brown things floating in the tub?'"
A Happy New Year to you all, and here's to my blog being more entertaining in the year to come.
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