Farful and whoa-whoas
When my sister was a toddler, she didn’t quite speak English. It’s not that she made up a full twin-speak language, but she did have a few special words. Her favorite sweater was named farful. Any snack, from a cracker all the way to an eclair, was a whoa-whoa. One grandmother was the perfectly typical Granma, the other was DumDum. And her bellybutton (only hers, not yours or mine) was inexplicably named Lena-lena-lena-lade.
This was at least partially my fault. I was three years older and fairly well-versed in the English language (baby-talk division) by the time Karen was able to make any intelligible sound more complex than da or ma. I was happy to serve as translator, and probably held her linguistic progress back at least a few months.
Karen referred to herself as Dingy, which was always good for a laugh. But she didn’t just look in the mirror and associate ‘Dingy’ with her own face. We’d say Karen, but she heard and said Dingy. A girl on my swim team became Dingy Edwards, and my mother’s friend was Dingy Green. Her brain seemed to have just a few wires crossed.
By the time she said her first full sentence it seemed that a special thing might have been lost. But as first sentences go, “Mommy, no more diapers,” was cute, articulate, and surprisingly enough, accurate.
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That was very sweet and I can relate. Lily and surely most other little children have interesting ways to communicate. Your sister sounds really cute, and you sure sound like a nice brother.
Nice job Matt, I like this one very much and just blogged it. We missed you. Your pal, EO
Of course, the great irony in this story is that at the age of 17, Matt also said:
“Mommy, no more diapers.”
You know, it’s one of those stories that comes out at a blogger bash – touching all the same, though.
As I just commented on Eric’s page above, we’re starting to go through much the same thing right now with our Panda, who’s 10 months old. I just hope, for posterity, I capture enough of it our video camera.
Great stuff. What prompted this reminiscence?
Eric and Dawn – Thanks for the praise and links. It’s, well… it’s nice to see that I can get attention without being an ass.
Andy – Wow! I stepped right into that one. Good hit. Sharing my darkest secrets with other bloggers is a mistake that will not be repeated.
Ross – Truly, the super-eight footage I have of my childhood is amazing. Embarassing to watch, but I’m glad I have it.
A combination of things prompted this post. Eric’s post on Lily coining ‘yestertime’ was probably part of it. A recent desire to try to live, and blog, with a little less anger played a role. Then I had a conversation with a co-worker about sibling rivalry, cooperation and communication. Wrap it all up, this is what comes out.
My parents insist that I used to call pretzels “bucky” (they were kept in a wooden bucket above the sink), and that I begged them for a “tire” for two months straight. They kept bringing home toy trucks until they figured out I was asking for a guitar (at which point Steve Miller moved in with us for two weeks).
I have no recollection of any of this, mind you. To this day in fact, I think my Mom has made it up in order to have cute stories to tell total strangers in the line at the supermarket or something.
I ended up being remembered for my antics as opposed to what I said. (Which to this day might hold true, you know what it’s like when I open my mouth…) For example, apparently I’d make my sister (she’s a year younger than me) pull me around the neighborhood while I sat in the back of a little red wagon. Cruel and manipulative even then.
Take my advice though, hide the super eight footage.