I like big butt(on)s – the continuing saga of a toddler’s vocabulary
My kid slays me. For real. For realsies even. Since starting at the daycare, in addition to bringing home every germ known to humankind (I swear we’ve had the plague at least twice), he’s also brought home so many new words!
And it is awesome. No longer do I have to figure out reasons to blame my good friend Dr. Marcy for his lack of vocabulary. I don’t always understand everything he’s saying (which leads to a lot of frustration and tantrums, and that’s just on my end!), but we’re getting closer. I am looking forward to the day that he can express that he’s hungry. When this boy starts to feel a wee bit hungry, he goes from exuberant and energetic yet sweet to Tasmanian Devil, emphasis on the unholy in less than five seconds.
In the dictionary, next to the word “hangry,” there should be this picture:
Feed me or suffer the consequences
But – the new words/phrases that he does know are both useful AND hilarious.
Kid loves buttons. If you have a button – of any sort – he will want to push it. Calculators, phones, my alarm fob, buttons on clothes, etc. If it is a button, he wants a piece of that. And if he SEES a button, he will yell it out. However, in his vocabulary, button is a single-syllable word. Just the first one. And honestly, there are few things more entertaining than your kid losing his mind and yelling “BUTT!” at the top of his lungs when he sees the number buttons on the card swiper thingie at the grocery store. (Also funny: pointing out his own personal belly butt.)
The only thing that might possibly top that is his current love for the clock (and it’s smaller cousin the watch). Unfortunately, his love for both the form and word is not matched by his ability to insert the letter “l” into the word. I can’t help it. I giggle every. single. time.
He also has started to say “sowwy” at appropriate times. Such as when he spilled mummy’s wine (I am now MUM or MUMMY, no more mama for me) everywhere and made her say a bad word. He also has apologized to the cat when he spilled his food on the floor, “Sowwy Dawin!” Darwin forgave him, I think. Probably because Alvie fed him at least twice more before I realized what was going on.
The other day, he pulled Jasmin’s tail. And just when I was about to exhort him to say “sowwy,” and remind him to be gentle, she turned and smacked him across the face. She kept her claws sheathed, showing a remarkable level of restraint for an elderly, put-upon feline. Alvie looked right at her and yelled, “‘TOP! GENTLE!”
Don’t even start with me, kid.
I’m sure that by tomorrow, we’ll have seventeen new words (or maybe just one), but it’s so fun right now. And if anyone has tips on how to make him tell me that he’s hungry five minutes before meltdown status (which is usually about 20 minutes after he refused a snack), that’d be cool.
Mummy, my cup runneth dry.
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