I Refuse to Correct Her
Baby K is transitioning from a babbling baby to a very talkative toddler. It has been in the works for a bit now. I mean, if you look at her parents, it is easy to see WHY Baby K would be a talker. Ok- if you look at ONE of her parents. It is me. I am the talkative parent.
I have to admit that when kids learn to talk... that shit is hilarious. It is funny and cute and completely inappropriate to repeatedly ask your daughter to repeat herself when she says new words. I am totally guilty of having a 'bad mom' smirk on my face as my child adds to her vocabulary. I cannot help it.
When she first ventured out into sing-a-longs with us, her favorite song was "The Wheels on the Bus." She knows what the wipers do, the windows, the wheels. Then we got to the door and y'all. Y'all. Did you know the doors on the bus go "open and shuck"? Because they do in this house. And I absolutely REFUSE to correct her. I know that she will learn the right way to say it... and that when it happens I will be heartbroken. Case in point: Little Lady K is going to be starting preschool in a couple weeks-- twice a week, half day action. When I asked her what she was going to put her supplies in, she quickly replied "my pack pack!" My heart exploded. I mean... pack pack is right and her mama is not going to correct that deliciousness. I could eat it up and good thing I recrded her saying it because now she says 'backpack' 50% of the time. While 'backpack' is correct, I have to tell y'all, I LOVE 'pack pack.' I don't care, it is adorable.
Hubs wrote about this on his Dad Blog the other day, but I'll recap it for y'all. Little Lady K loves french fries so we have started getting her Happy Meals from a certain fast food establishment. Before they changed to Lion King toys, they were inundating us with Toy Story figurines. Now WE have never watched Toy Story at our house but somehow she knows everyone's name. There is a character named Forky Forky. If that is not enough to make you laugh (because you are CLEARLY more mature than I am) my kid cannot pronounce Forky. She says Fucky. And I laugh. Everytime. I know. I know there is some "pure" mama and dada out there that is frowning at that. Don't you dare judge me, bitches. I spell out bad words so she won't say them... I DESERVE to hear her little voice say "Fucky Fucky." Be mad.
The list of mispronounced words is growing, which means that there is a growing kid living in this house and picking up on everything that we say. We are firmly standing in the "WHY??" station of life... which is slightly annoying but I am loving it. Last week I made lasagna. She calls it sha-sagna. You say tomato, she says a-mayo. All her Ls sound like Ys. So, yellow is yey-yo. Legs are Yegs. Little is Yiddle. Ballet is Ba-yeeh. We went to a surprise party, she yelled "a-prize!" She uses her stethoscope and listens to your heart beep. If you trip she says "mama, you aff to walk a yiddle more cawl-fu-yee." And in our car, we go the sweed yemyet.
This is three. And I absolutely, positively REFUSE to correct her. And y'all better not either. I'm basking in this loveliness as long as possible.
I have to admit that when kids learn to talk... that shit is hilarious. It is funny and cute and completely inappropriate to repeatedly ask your daughter to repeat herself when she says new words. I am totally guilty of having a 'bad mom' smirk on my face as my child adds to her vocabulary. I cannot help it.
When she first ventured out into sing-a-longs with us, her favorite song was "The Wheels on the Bus." She knows what the wipers do, the windows, the wheels. Then we got to the door and y'all. Y'all. Did you know the doors on the bus go "open and shuck"? Because they do in this house. And I absolutely REFUSE to correct her. I know that she will learn the right way to say it... and that when it happens I will be heartbroken. Case in point: Little Lady K is going to be starting preschool in a couple weeks-- twice a week, half day action. When I asked her what she was going to put her supplies in, she quickly replied "my pack pack!" My heart exploded. I mean... pack pack is right and her mama is not going to correct that deliciousness. I could eat it up and good thing I recrded her saying it because now she says 'backpack' 50% of the time. While 'backpack' is correct, I have to tell y'all, I LOVE 'pack pack.' I don't care, it is adorable.
Hubs wrote about this on his Dad Blog the other day, but I'll recap it for y'all. Little Lady K loves french fries so we have started getting her Happy Meals from a certain fast food establishment. Before they changed to Lion King toys, they were inundating us with Toy Story figurines. Now WE have never watched Toy Story at our house but somehow she knows everyone's name. There is a character named Forky Forky. If that is not enough to make you laugh (because you are CLEARLY more mature than I am) my kid cannot pronounce Forky. She says Fucky. And I laugh. Everytime. I know. I know there is some "pure" mama and dada out there that is frowning at that. Don't you dare judge me, bitches. I spell out bad words so she won't say them... I DESERVE to hear her little voice say "Fucky Fucky." Be mad.
The list of mispronounced words is growing, which means that there is a growing kid living in this house and picking up on everything that we say. We are firmly standing in the "WHY??" station of life... which is slightly annoying but I am loving it. Last week I made lasagna. She calls it sha-sagna. You say tomato, she says a-mayo. All her Ls sound like Ys. So, yellow is yey-yo. Legs are Yegs. Little is Yiddle. Ballet is Ba-yeeh. We went to a surprise party, she yelled "a-prize!" She uses her stethoscope and listens to your heart beep. If you trip she says "mama, you aff to walk a yiddle more cawl-fu-yee." And in our car, we go the sweed yemyet.
This is three. And I absolutely, positively REFUSE to correct her. And y'all better not either. I'm basking in this loveliness as long as possible.
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