In which I share recent mannerisms from my two speech-challenged children:
Julianna, upon being given anything at the table (tea, milk, more pasta):
“Oh, sank you sweetheart!”
(This is her parroting me, btw, and as soon as she discovered that it reduces people to giggles, she adopted it as a permanent fixture. I’m now trying to discourage it by lack of reaction. It’s really cute, but she’s eight years old. She’s not really a little girl anymore, appearances and behavior to the contrary.)
Michael, when told “no”:
“Oh, but the (denied item) make me saaaad!”
Julianna, upon having her will thwarted or redirected in the tiniest detail:
“Heeeeeeyyyyyyyyyy!” (Word Press is woefully inadequate to the task of showing the inflection of this, a two-pitch falling whine.)
Michael, when his big brothers, thinking he’s adorable, repeat his stilted, imperfect sentences:
“Yeah! Dass, what, I, said!”
Julianna, at any old time of the day (it happens upwards of a half dozen times a day):
“Hey–Mommy–guess–what? Michael, said, if der iss, a toh-nado dweel, we haf–to–go–to, the base-ment!”
(We think this is an attempt to “coach” herself about things that scare her. Although similar self-coachings on the topic of getting up and coming to Mommy and Daddy’s room if there’s a thunderstorm failed spectacularly three nights ago. When push came to shove, she reverted to her usual bloodcurdling wake-up-the-whole-household scream.)
Michael, after seeing something scary:
(little giggle): “Mum-my, da monsta is fun-ny!”
Happy Palm Sunday weekend! The biggest week of the year is around the corner!
Kathleen M. Basi 