Babies Just Don't Understand

Last week, I wrote about all the things that we as parents cannot understand about our adorable and devilish offspring. Now I'd like to highlight a few things that our kids can't seem to grasp about adults and how things work in the real world. 

For example, Thumper has yet to realize that me driving is far more important than the soother/bunny/book/sippy cup that she just dropped on the car floor. Sorry sweetie, but no I can't pick up the soother you dropped/threw at the back of my head because I'm actively trying to not crash the car. Also? Screaming at the top of your lungs doesn't help me to not crash the car. Just sayin'.

She also doesn't seem to understand that it is possible to eat two foods at the same time. If you're eating peas for dinner and I put some chicken nuggets on your plate, that doesn't mean you need to abandon the peas altogether in favour of the nuggets. Nor does it mean you need to scream bloody murder for fear that since I've introduced the next food of the meal, the peas will suddenly disappear. I know this is hard to comprehend, sweet child of mine, but I would like you to eat both.

Thumper has a hard time remembering that when we leave the playground, we will come back someday. And that someday will probably be tomorrow. I know that some things in life are very do-or-die, but the playground is not one of them. So rest easy tonight Thumper, and please stop hitting me when I say it's time to go home, because tomorrow is another day full of swings and slides and mulch for you to throw. At least until October because we won't be coming back to the park for another few months after that. I will even welcome a tantrum from you when that cool, Fall day comes because at least it will be warranted for once.

The same can be said for basically any activity we do that she loves. The pool. Watching The Little Mermaid 78462954 times. The beach. Play groups. Amusement parks. If you love it and it's safe and reasonably priced or better yet, free, chances are that we are going to do it as much as possible. Because despite what you think, dear child, I spend much of my life trying to make sure that you enjoy yours. And when you're having fun, I'm having fun. (As long as the activity is not climbing on the counters or drawing on the walls, in which case, I'm not having fun.) So please don't cry when we have to finish doing whatever we're doing, because that is most definitely not fun and it makes me twitch.

Now here comes the most puzzling one of all. Apparently the girl doesn’t understand that pools and splash pads serve the same purpose. She loves the pool and loves to sit on the steps and then stand up and shout 'I’m a mermaid!' However, if she is within five feet of a splash pad that is turned on, she will use her super baby strength to jump into my arms and wrap all possible limbs around me. I honestly don’t even need to hold onto her, that’s how tightly she grips me. And I’m fairly certain that not even the jaws of life could peel her off. This all saddens me for two reasons. One is that I feel like Thumper would really enjoy sitting on the hippo that sprays water and pretending to be a mermaid. The second is that, obviously, I want to use the splash pads and if my child hates them, then my only valid excuse to use them becomes null and my summer becomes boring and hot because I can’t fit into those stupid baby pools. I think I'm just going to abandon splash pads for this summer because as much as I love the cuddles I get when Thumper is trying to avoid them, I don't love the simultaneous heart-stopping pitch in which she screams. 

Sadly, I don't think Thumper will be grasping any of these concepts in the near future. Which I guess I can live with because as a parent it's kind of your job to be baffled daily by your offspring. Except for the splash pads. I will always be sad about the splash pads. 

-Alice

A Letter to Parents who Suck

I believe in full disclosure, so I’ll tell you now that this is another angry Alice rant. But this isn’t like Dr. Suckypants or the one about the milk where I was a frenzied ball of rage and it somehow turned into something wonderful and sarcastic and hilarious. It’s also not as grave a subject as the peanut butter fiasco but I’d like you to imagine me using my serious voice for this. And picture my serious face. Which looks something like this:

Like this. But with hair.
And better eyebrows.

Awhile back, I talked about strangers who suck. Now I’d like to talk about a more specific group of strangers who suck: other parents.

Don’t get me wrong – there are plenty of other parents out there who rock. Plenty. You know the kind, the ones that give you some of their baby wipes when you’ve run out in the middle of changing your child’s very, very disgusting diaper or the one who shares a laugh with you at the fair about the bitch mom who just let her kids butt in line. But as unfortunate as it is, there are other parents who just don’t get it. Who look down on the rest of us and scoff when our kids misbehave in public. Who are either dumb enough or self-absorbed enough not to realize that their kids misbehave probably as much as ours do, and that it’s normal.

As sucky as it is, I expect this type of criticism from older adults who have grown children because they have forgotten what it’s like to be in the trenches of babyhood and toddler-dom. It’s kind of like when you roll your eyes at the 14 year old girls who cry at Justin Beiber concerts, but in reality you loved N*SYNC just as much when you were their age. I also expect it from people who don’t have kids because how can you expect someone to understand a situation they’ve never been in?** It’s the same logic that allowed us to proclaim that we’d never let our future children watch TV, even though we do it all the time now that we actually have them because it allows us to, oh I don’t know, drop a deuce without a tiny person watching or banging on the door.

**This doesn’t mean it’s okay for grandparents or non-parents to judge, it just means that I am willing to understand your point of view and give you the benefit of the doubt, even though you clearly are not nice enough to do the same for me. Bitches.

But when the dirty looks come from someone else who has small children, someone that is in the trenches and is supposed to understand exactly what you’re going through, it just feels like pure, unadulterated betrayal. It also makes that person a smug douchebag and a motherfucking pain in my ass all rolled into one.

Let me set the scene for you: Dawson and I take Thumper to an amusement park. We can tell Thumper is getting hungry and tired and is about to crack, so we sit for lunch. She eats a sandwich, but it’s not enough to stave off the hunger pains and she has an apple sauce-related tantrum in the middle of the lunch area. As we’re dealing with the situation, which obviously includes a time-out, another mother who’s eating ice cream with her son turns around repeatedly to shoot us dirty looks. Then a family of six walks by and the father glances at Thumper with eyebrows raised, then looks right into my eyes and shakes his head at me.

In a perfect world where I could do whatever I wanted, I would have punched that dad in the back of the head, and shoved the mother’s stupid ice cream cone in her stupid face. I would have asked them who they are to judge when they have children too, children who probably have already had a meltdown today or are about to soon. I would have asked them what makes them such perfect parents and what makes me a shitty one so deserving of their loathing stares. Of course, in a perfect world I also would not be charged with assault or be featured on the news as the Bat Shit Crazy Mother Who Lost Her Marbles at Center Island.

Do you know what really irked me about it all? I was actually in control of the situation. My child may have been losing her mind, but I was like Harrison Ford in Air Force One, all stone faced and composed and saying Get off my plane, except it was more like You are getting a time-out now and Dawson was nodding like Yeah, she’s totally got this. So Thumper was buckled in her stroller and still freaking out and we sat there ignoring her for a minute and a half because that’s part of our time out strategy, not because we’re neglectful or ignorant parents. I wasn’t raising my voice to yell empty threats at my daughter, nor was I letting her walk all over me or frantically hoping that lightening would strike and provide a distraction so I could make a hasty exit. I had a plan in place. When the time-out was over, I calmly explained to Thumper why she was in time-out and I calmly told her what I expected of her. And guess what? She stopped screaming and did exactly what I asked her to. So don’t shake your head, roll your eyes, sneer at me or mutter under your breath about my inadequate parenting skills because booyah! I just won that round and if we were in a parenting contest, I would have made you look as unfit as Charlie Sheen. Winning!

Given how up and down our discipline has been lately, I was supremely proud of myself and of Thumper for how it went down. Yeah, she may have thrown a tantrum for no reason but she’s a child and it happens, and that’s okay. What matters is what happens next, and I can’t even begin to explain how happy and giddy and proud I was to see her be able to take a breath, think about what I was saying and then make the choice to listen to what I asked of her. It made me so incredibly angry to think that some Judy Attitudies tried to take that away from us with their stink-eyes.

So to all the parents out there who suck, maybe instead of wasting your time judging the good people of the world, you should take a minute to look in the mirror and see that you’re no better and no different from the rest of us. And rest assured that when I see you in the grocery store and your little one is the kid throwing a hissy fit in the produce section, the look I’ll be giving you won’t be one of contempt, even though you kind of deserve it. I’ll be the one giving you the sympathetic nod that tells you that I’ve been there and that I know you got this. Then I’ll kick all the grandparents and non-parents in the junk for giving you the death stares, because I’m the kind of parent who rocks.

-Alice

The One About Bad Fortunes and Ugly Ponies

When you find a career that you really love, you can usually look back on your life and see that it was something you were always good at, even when you didn’t realize you could get paid to do it. Like an artist whose very first finger-painting in kindergarten could rival Monet or Van Gogh, or the recreational skier who grows up to be an Olympic medalist. I have always been a writer but it took me a long time to realize that I could make a living doing it. But there was always this one other thing that I was really good at, and until yesterday, never realized I could turn into a marketable skill. And that is naming things.

As a child, I regularly changed the names of my stuffed animals as I came up with new and better ones. I also had the names of my future children picked out well before I was of the child-bearing age and I used to rename myself weekly, demanding my friends and family call me whatever name I thought was the coolest at the time. That usually didn’t work out so well, except for the time in high school when it worked for three and a half years. (Oh yes it did!) Picking a title has always been my favourite part of writing, whether it’s a short story, article or blog post. Many friends over the years have let me name their projects for school, Dawson lets me choose the titles for his scripts, and sometimes when she’s in a good mood Wendy will let me name her blog posts too.

And so it’s because of all of this that I think I should go into business as an official namer of things. I could help people name streets, books, movies, companies, pets, babies and so on. Just yesterday I came up with the title of my first book: Soggy Brownies and Hookers. Don’t even try to tell me you wouldn’t read that. I think I’ll call my naming company You Name It. Get it? It’s ironic because you actually won’t be naming anything because that’s my job. Duh.

My first order of business as an official namer of things will be to offer my services to My Little Ponies. Whoever is currently naming ponies must have a B.A. in Sucking because there are ponies called Alphabittle and Bunches-o-fun and Brights Brightly. Brights Brightly? Really? I totally see where you got that from, you know, because the symbol on that pony is a brights brightly. Oh wait. I forgot that that’s not a thing. The symbol is a sun with hearts. So how about Sundrop? Or rip off the Care Bears and call it Bright Heart. They don’t have to be rocket science, but they do have to make sense. And although my drawing skills are a little lacking, I think I could help them out in the design area. You see, back in the day MLP looked cute and normal and pony-ish.But for some unknown reason, the powers that be decided the latest incarnation of MLP should look like short, anorexic aliens with big heads. Like this. And that, my friends, is some messed up shit. Maybe I wouldn’t be so much of a designer as someone who stands there and says ‘Don’t do that. You’re stupid.’

Once You Name It has established itself and made me a small but comfortable fortune, I’ll branch out into other things, like writing fortune cookies. Because let’s be honest, fortune cookies have been lacking lately. They say things like you are a magnificent light to those in your life. That’s nice and it’s good for self-esteem, but that’s not a fortune. A fortune is something like don’t marry him – he is a DOUCHEBAG. Or, if you use the numbers 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42 to win the lottery your plane will crash and you’ll be stuck on an island with Matthew Fox for the rest of your life. Don’t those sound more useful to you? Maybe useful is the wrong word. Maybe they’re just more fun. Either way, it’s still better than you are a magnificent light to those in your life.

Another part of the company will oversee writing Kijiji ads for people. That is a market just waiting to tapped. (That’s what she said!) I’m not talking about the buy and sell sections because, quite frankly, if you’re going to sell me a swing set and slide for $50, I don’t care how badly you misspelled ‘play structure.’ But when I’m looking for a make-up artist for my wedding, I want someone who is a professional, not a ‘perfessional’ and certainly not a ‘peofessional.’ I’m not totally sure what those even mean, but I suspect it has something to do with drugs.  I would also like someone who knows the basic functions of a comma, question mark and period, and knows that exclamation marks should be used sparingly. I know none of these points directly pertain to make-up, but if you can’t tell that ‘Are you a modern bride looking for a chic look?’ is a question and not a statement, how am I supposed to trust that you know the correct uses for make up? I don’t want to end up with mascara as lipstick on my wedding day.

I don't know why it only just occurred to me go into business as a namer of things. Had I done it sooner, I could have saved many celebrity children from the lifelong backlash they will receive from both paparazzi and kids on the playground. Sorry about your luck, Apple. And for the record, I still would have encouraged the creators of Cougar Town to call the show Cougar Town because it's an awesome name and it really is okay to watch a show called Cougar Town. 

-Alice

The Lazy Post

Listen, I know you guys like me because I’m good at being angry and rant-y and letting everyone have a good laugh at my parental failures. Unfortunately for you, nothing especially note-worthy happened this week so I made the executive decision to update you on some of the topics I’ve blogged about recently.

You know that I just learned to drive standard, and yay for me, I’m getting better! I still stall from time to time, and I still sometimes accidentally put the car into third when I meant to put it in first, but the car hasn’t blown up yet so I am considering that a major plus. I also always bring milk in the car to keep Thumper’s rage at bay, as well as soothers and blankets and stuffed toys. Sadly, despite the abundance of distractions available to Thumper, there is no way to keep her from dropping one or all of the aforementioned objects. And since they all conveniently fall out of my reach, I’m still driving around with an angry toddler screaming in my ear.

You also know that I’ve been having some issues with time-outs. I think I may have become a time-out nazi. It’s probably just as bad as being a time-out push-over. Needless to say, I’m not good at balance.

In my Liar Liar post, I talked about how chocolate can make me so happy/drugged up that I will give Thumper anything she wants. Apparently sleep has the same effect. Thumper, for whatever reason, was up eleventeen-billion times during the night on Thursday, thus turning me into Angry Zombie Mommy for most of the next day. Luckily, after putting her down for a nap I was able to make it to my own bed before passing out. When we woke up two hours later, I felt so refreshed I was all like, let’s eat cookies together! And before she finished the cookie I was shoving chips in her hands. And then we were both so excited I was like, LET’S GO TO DISNEYLAND! And we did.

Okay, we didn’t go to Disneyland but the cookie and chips part is all true.

Also, it has come to my attention that maybe some of you don’t know what the acronym STFU means, as mentioned in my first-ever stick drawing. And it came to my attention only because a friend told me she didn’t know what it meant. The conversation went something like this:

Friend: I like your stick drawing but I don’t know what STFU means.

Alice: Shut the fuck up.

Friend: No seriously. I even tried to look it up.

Alice: Shut the fuck up.

Friend: I’M BEING SERIOUS I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT MEANS JUST FUCKING TELL ME.

Alice: Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

Friend: Oh. I get it now.

Oh also, Thumper uttered her first “No, I do it!” the other day. The first of many I am sure. At first I was like awww and then I wondered how long it will take before I start twitching when I hear those words. She also started saying “I did it!” but never at the right times. I’ll ask her if she wants to go to the park and she runs toward the door screaming “I did it!” She is a special, special child.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll do something dumb and then I’ll have a funny story to tell you about on Friday. Here’s hoping!

-Alice

Parents Just Don't Understand

I agree, Jazzy Jeff and Fresh Prince. Parents don’t understand. And it’s a foolish battle that nobody can win, whether you’re the adult or the child. And there’s this moment in time when the reckless child you once were morphs into the stern parent you swore you’d never become and it’s so swift and sudden that you don’t even notice it. You’re too busy cooing over your new baby and not sleeping for a full year and then one day you’re like, ‘Wait, what? Wasn’t it, like, yesterday that I was telling my parents they ruined my life and then stomping off to my room?’ Not understanding your kids is basically a rite of passage, and you probably wouldn’t be normal if you did understand them, but that doesn’t make the frustration any easier. 

This isn’t to say that parents are a walk in the park either. I know that even as an adorable little toddler, Thumper has a mental list of things I do that confuse and annoy her. Things like, ‘why do parents have drawers with handles if I’m not allowed to open them?’ And ‘why do parents leave kitchen chairs unattended and then act surprised when I use it to climb on the counter?’ And ‘why am I not allowed to play or run with scissors?’ I also know that when Thumper is a tweenager and, God help us, a teenager the confusion between us will get even more irritating. I know this because I was a bitch of child to raise. (Sorry Mom. And Dad...And Sister and Brothers...)But since I spend a lot of my time trying to avoid thinking about Thumper in double digits, I’ll stick to the things about toddlers that I do not, for the ever-loving life of me, understand. And the top ten are as follows:

10. Why do they beg for Cheerios like you’ve neglected to feed them for their entire lives, only to wait until after you pour milk in the bowl to tell you that they do not, in fact, want Cheerios?

9. Why do they all of the sudden desperately need to play with that toy that they hate and have ignored since its purchase only because another child wants to use it?

8. Why do they cry every day when first thing in the morning, you put them on the change table to get a fresh diaper? This is what we do every morning. Get used to it.

7. Why do they scream ‘NOOOO’ after taking three bites of scrambled eggs? And why, when you then ask, ‘Are you all done?’ do they scream ‘NOOOO!’? And why, when THEN you ask, ‘Oh, do you want something else to eat instead?’ do they scream ‘NOOOO!’ a third time? WHAT OTHER OPTION IS THERE?

6. Why do they have to cling to your legs and cry when you try to say hello to your baby nieces and nephews? It’s not like you’re trying to, God forbid, hold the babies.

5. How can they remember exactly where the cookies are hidden at Grandma’s house but not remember how to wait for their turn and not slap another baby upside the head because they are ready to play with Barbie right that second?

4. Why do they have to stir during the night right after you’ve fallen asleep? They couldn’t have done that 15 minutes earlier, when you were awake? Exhausted and lethargic yes, but technically still awake.

3. Why are they shocked when you attempt to brush their teeth? We do this twice a day, every day. It shouldn’t be a surprise anymore.

2. Why do they scream and run away when you tell them it’s bath time, and then once in the bath, decide that 30 minutes is not long enough to stay in the tub and they will need more time?

1. Why must they poo after you’ve put them down for nap or buckled them into the car seat? Why must this happen every.single.day? And why is that when you actually wait for it to happen, it just never happens? Why? Why, God? WHY?

There are many, many more things I could add to this list. And as the years go by, there will be many, many, many more. But like I said, this is par for the course. If you became a parent expecting to understand your offspring, then you are either dangerously optimistic or taking some crazy-ass pills. In which case, I might want some.

-Alice

Liar Liar, Mommy's Pants are on Fire

There is one universal thing that all parents have in common. And it’s the fact that we lie to our kids. You might be the most virtuous and honourable person on the planet. You might be shaking your head at me, saying that you would never ever do such a thing. But chances are you have and that when your kids were little, you probably did it every day. Let me refresh your memory by telling you the top five lies I tell my child every day of the week.

Everyone’s having a nap.

We promise that you won’t miss out on any fun while you’re napping because we are all going to sleep too. So go to sleep. Please. Just close your eyes for a second. No, you can’t get up to play because I’m going to sleep too. No, you can’t have any milk. The milk is also sleeping.

This isn’t chocolate. It’s medicine.

In some respects, this is not a lie. Chocolate can help turn mommy’s dial from “If you don’t stop screaming ‘no’ I am going to shut you in this room and never ever let you out!” to something more like “How about we spend the day at the pool? We’ll eat ice cream sundaes and you can stay up late!”

Buzz Lightyear/The Little Mermaid/Cinderella is sleeping.

And do you know why Buzz is sleeping? Because you’ve already watched him and Woody save that wimpy T-Rex’s ass seventy-seven times today and seriously, the dudes can only play the hero so many times in one day. It takes energy to save the world at the eleventh hour. Cut the toys some slack already.

You’re gonna get sucked down the drain if you don’t hurry!

Bath time is over now. C’mon, Daddy is already asleep on the floor, all the bubbles have disappeared, and your teeth are chattering. Still no? Okay fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m about to pull the bath plug and if you don’t hurry up and get out of there, you are gonna get sucked down with the wa—(baby screams and scrambles into your open arms).

If you don’t go to sleep right now, I am going to take every toy and book out of your room!

This one is tough. If you are lucky, the child will choose to believe you. But if you’ve got one of those crafty little buggers, he will test you to see whether or not you are lying. In which case, you may find yourself dragging your child’s entire bookcase out of his room, down the hall, and into your closet at 3:30 a.m.

Still don’t think you’re a liar? Liar! You’re lying to me right now! It’s okay to admit it, really. We all do it. Sometimes it’s necessary in order to make it through the day or, you know, end the longest running bath in the history of the world.

-Alice

How to Deal with Dr. Suckypants

Finding a new doctor is a serious task to undertake. It’s also a serious bitch to do. Since I’ve been through this excruciating mission twice now, I will offer you two very important tips, and I mean them sincerely. 1.) If you’re unsure of questions to ask a potential doctor during a meet and greet, research it online and compile a list of questions based on what you’re looking for in a physician. Don’t be afraid to ask where he/she went to medical school, how long they’ve been practising and if they have experience treating children. 2.) Trust your gut. If a doctor seems knowledgeable and friendly, than it stands to reason that she is probably a reliable, competent person and doctor. Similarly, if she is acting like a nut-job, chances are she is a nut-job. In my experience, if you’re prepared and listen to your instincts, you can’t go wrong. If you don’t do these things, then you shouldn’t be surprised when just thinking about doctor appointments drives you to immediately consume an entire bottle of wine. By now you know that despite the how awesome my current doctor is, I did have to suffer through a different, shit-tastic one first. Which is why I’ve come up with a separate set of tips, that while might seem amusing, I mean just as sincerely. The following pointers are solely for the times when you’re dealing with your own version of a crappy doctor. I present to you the things I wish I knew before dealing with Dr. Suckypants.

1.  Poker face: If you have a Dr. Suckypants, you will undoubtedly hear a lot of ridiculous statements. Things like ‘Is she walking yet?’ in reference to your daughter who is running around the office or ‘Can she pronounce at least three consonants?’ after you just finished answering yes to the previous question, which was ‘Can she say at least three words?’ In order to get through the appointment without beating someone’s head against the wall (the doctor’s or your own) you will need to work on your pa-pa-pa-poker face, pa-pa-poker face. For example, when the doctor rages at you for being irresponsible enough to have not given your daughter her 15 month vaccinations, despite the fact that your daughter is only 12 months old and was just given the 12 month shots by the same doctor who is now cursing you, do not pummel her or laugh in her face. Just put on your poker face, point out her mistake and watch her keel over from embarrassment and the kindness in your sweet smile.

2. Sarcasm is your best friend: There are some doctors who will ignore your poker face, probably because they’ve been sucking at doctoring for years and are now immune to it. These are the cases where you must implement sarcasm to get your point across. For example, you are asking you doctor to sign a statement to send to the government so that you can start receiving the federal child tax benefits. When you show her the official statement saying that a doctor signature is required, she will say that she is not allowed to sign the document. When you ask why, she will ask how she is supposed to know that you are in fact the actual mother of the child in question. Stifle the urge to scream, and just say something like ‘Oh you’re completely right. I should have never thought that you agreeing to provide medical care for this child and I meant that you believed I was her mother. Just so we’re clear though, you won’t sign this paper for me but you will let me walk out the door with a child you’re not sure is mine? And you will continue to be our doctor? Great. Thank you.'

3. Stick figures: Often, Dr. Suckypants will be unable to answer even the simplest of questions. This is either out of blatant ignorance or plain stupidity. Either way, it’s the kind of situation where sometimes drawing a picture will help. For example, you ask your doctor for advice on how to get your toddler to eat a motherfucking vegetable and she answers by wagging her finger in your face and telling you that by 15 months, you should be offering your child every kind of food. And then you clarify by saying that you already do that, but she won’t take it, hence why you’re asking for suggestions. And she responds to that by shoving a Nestle pamphlet outlining what foods to give your child when during 0-24 months in your hands. And then you say ‘NO YOU AREN’T LISTENING TO ME! YOU ARE NOT A GOOD LISTENER!’ And then she tells you to make sure your child doesn’t choke on food because that is a big concern now. Right, because that wasn’t a concern before? Maybe if you used a drawing like this, it would get your point across.

I know, right? Can't get my kid to eat, but I sure can draw.

Now that you’ve perfected your poker face, sarcasm and stick drawings, you are totally and completely ready to battle with your own version of Dr. Suckypants. There’s one last tip I’d like to offer you though.

When you’re looking into potential doctors, ask around to see if anyone you know has heard anything about the doctor, whether it’s good or bad. And if that doesn’t work, go online and Google their name. It might sound like a juvenile thing to do, but you might find some really great recommendations. On the flip side, you may find reviews warning you of long wait times or icy-cold bedside manner. Had I known about a website called ratemd.com before last June, I would have seen the twenty reviews for my former doctor stating all the problems I eventually ran into with her. Just remember that everybody has bad days, even doctors, so you’ll never find someone with a perfect track record. I’d say if someone has reviews both positive and negative, it’s worth a shot to at least interview them. But if they have twenty negative reviews, chances are it’s another version of Dr. Suckypants and trust me, you don’t need that shit. 

- Alice

The Funniest Things My Kid Can't Say

The secret language of toddlers is always evolving. When they first start speaking, kids tend to mostly just sound as if they are snorting consonants together with a couple of vowels mixed in every once in awhile. Eventually, these odd noises start to resemble words, even if they are only recognizable to dogs and the child's parents. Because we spend every waking hour a lot of time with our kids, we parents not only become accustomed to the weird things our kids say but sometimes even begin using their words too. I guess it's the same logic that allows us to refer to ourselves in the third person and use that itty bitty baby voice 24 hours a day, even the hours not spent with the baby. I am guilty of all of the above, but instead of hanging my head in shame, I decided to celebrate the ridiculousness. I compiled a list of my favourite words that my kid can’t say for your viewing pleasure.

Enjoy!

Sammy (Mamiss) – Sammy is the name of Thumper’s adored stuffed rabbit. Apparently in Thumper-speak, Sammy is actually pronounced Mamiss. It is so.freaking.adorable. You might think I’m biased but trust me, if you heard her say it you would melt faster than when you found out this was Oprah’s last season on TV. I was so upset when she finally figured out how to say ‘Sammy’ that I continued calling the bunny Mamiss and eventually Thumper returned to saying it as well.

Clock (Cock)- Yup. Girl can’t pronounce L’s yet. But has no trouble with the rest of the letters. Sooooo awkward. I try to encourage her to just say ‘lock,’ which is probably more confusing in the long run but I can’t handle all the potential for embarrassing situations until she can say it correctly.

Grandpa (Paca) – This word has had a weird progression. Initially, she pronounced it ‘Bopga.’ Then she honed in on the ‘p’ and said ‘Popca.’ Suddenly it switched to, and has stayed on, ‘Paca.’ If you break the word up and have her pronounce it in sections (‘grand’ and ‘pa’) she says it pretty well. But when you get all excited thinking she’s finally got it and say it fast, she’s back to saying Paca. It’s kind of like when Phoebe tried to teach Joey how to speak French on Friends. Hilarious but totally baffling.

Thank you (Nah Dis) – Thumper started saying this early on, back when proper pronunciation was not expected. We thought it was weird – obviously because they sound nothing alike – but she pronounced it the exact same every time so we let it go, thinking she would eventually correct herself. But now I can’t understand how she’s mastered counting to ten or saying words like ‘careful’ and ‘lotion’ perfectly yet thank you is still ‘nah dis.’ Breaking up the words and annunciating the actual sounds doesn’t work for this one. She just stares at us like we are the ones speaking in code.

Go away (Go away) – This is one phrase that, somehow, Thumper has always managed to pronounce perfectly. It was also the fifth thing she ever said. (Again, she can say go away but not thank you. I don't get it!) It’s included in this list because it’s what she says when you ask her what a dragon says. Confused? Then you obviously haven’t read The Paperbag Princess lately. We didn’t even teach her to say it; she just busted it out one day during story time, and we’ve exploited its cute factor ever since. It might cause a lot of confusion once she starts school but the fact that she will likely still be saying ‘nah dis’ will probably be the bigger issue of the two.

-Alice