I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
October 8, 2005
At the tender age of 1 1/2, I can already tell that Baby is gonna be a Talker.
She spends all of her waking hours jabbering away, whether she’s “reading” to herself in her room or playing with her toys or having long imaginary conversations on the telephone (but put an actual person on the line and she’ll look at you like you’ve lost your marbles and how dare you stick that nastiness up to her ear).
Often, she’ll march up to me and earnestly say something like, “Ah bum mum ack soo mee. Deh tum mah nat sum.”
“Oh, uh huh,” I’ll respond, prompting her to give me a pitying look.
Lately, though, some of Baby’s words are really starting to make sense. She’s even figured out how to string a few of them together. Here is an abridged version of my guide to understanding Baby talk:
OH NO! Used in the event of an unpleasant surprise, i.e., a Teletubbies technical difficulty, a dropped Beece, or an overturned juice, the ‘OH NO!’ is to be said loudly and with extravagant consternation.
Peeeees! Strangers may think this ‘please’ is very polite, but in Baby’s mind, ‘Peeees’ simply means “Give me that right now, you poopie head or I’m gonna throw a friggin’ fit!’
AHHHH-tee. AHHHHH-tee. I haven’t figured this one out, but she chants it quite often. I’m thinking it may be her own baby mantra. And who am I to mess with Zen?
WHOA! Baby’s still a bit uncertain on her feet, but it seems everyone knows and understands this except her. Each and every time her legs give way, she emits a loud, disbelieving “WHOA!”, and quickly looks around to make sure no one was looking.
Then there’s the singing. Baby loves to sing. Never mind that she can’t say most of the words. She replaces the words she doesn’t know with the words she does. Therefore her favorite song, Kelly Clarkson’s “Since You Been Gone” has become “Since You Been DOG!”. Baby waits until the “DOG” part to shout out the word with soulful abandon.
“Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” is another favorite, only because she loves the word “Apple”. “Up above the world so high” is actually “Apple bove the world so high” in her mind.
Now that so many words are coming from her mouth, I’ve started holding long, involved conversations with her wherever we go. Conversations along the lines of, “Did you have a poopie? A poopie doopie? A poopie doopie, schmoopie?” Or, “Noooo. No down. You sit right there. Want some cheese? Cheese? Mmmmm!”
It’s not exactly the kind of small talk that puts me on the A-list at cocktail parties. I’ve seen the sad looks I get from passers by and realize that to some, it would seem I’ve crossed over to the other side. The crazy-mommy-who-doesn’t-get-out-much side.
But hey. At least now I have someone to talk to about it.
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