For the most part, he speaks very well. He's a verbal kid and was chatting it up at an early age. That does not translate to an early grasp of letters, numbers, spelling his name, listening or any of those other things an almost-four-year old should know, but he's pretty cute so we don't harp on it. 
We do, however, have these momentary lapses where he's trying to tell us something and we have no idea what he's talking about.
For example, we were leaving the house on Friday to do our bi-weekly grocery shopping and he pipes up, "Mommy, did you know that Cleo (next-door dog) ate Katy's (next-door girl) asscrack?
Me: "What? What did you just say?"
Him: "Cleo ate Katy's asscrack!"
Me: "No, I don't think so. What are your talking about?"
Him: Exasperated sigh that implies I'm a fucking moron. "Yes, she did eat it. Katy told me!"
Me: "No she didn't. Show me what Cleo ate."
Him: "Her asscrack! Like that!" He points to a shadowy corner of the garage.
Me: "Son, that's a TRASHCAN.."
Later that same day, he was playing in his room and I heard him singing a refrain from a song he's currently loving. "I'm in love, I'm in love with my stripped meat."
Unable to let a moment like this go by, I pop my head in. "Whatcha singing?"
He: "Stripped meat."
Me: "Oh really. Do you mean 'Strict Machine'?"
He just laughs. "No! Silly mommy, it's stripped meat!"
But he really took the cake yesterday when we were driving home from the in-laws. He leaned in to ask the hubby a question about popsicles, particularly the eating of popsicles when we arrived home.
I replied on hubby's behalf that we had to eat dinner before anything else.
With an exasperated sigh -- accompanied by an eye rolling no less -- he said, "Is your name daddy?"
No comments:
Post a Comment