Like, Totally, Vocabulary. Y'know?

On the scale of "Things You Don't Expect Your Preschooler to Say" these are pretty mundane.

Chelsea's not saying sh*t (like one little friend of hers recently did) or even "cruise ship!" as another one famously swore. But I guess I still need to be careful how I speak around her, lest she start sounding like, well, like me.

Here are some recent gems:

"Seriously, Mommy, seriously! We NEED to do this now!"

"Mommy, I'm not actually going to do it!"

(and in response to the question, "Why did you take your pants off outside?")

"Oh, I just randomly did it!"

Seriously, actually, and randomly.

Yep, that's seriously what I actually sound like when I randomly babble at my kids.
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Missing the Point

Chelsea, Savannah, and I go to the weekly open gym at our YMCA. It's just 45 minutes of free play time on the gymnastics equipment. The kids love it, obviously, but I think the moms might love it more. Everyone is so busy flopping into the marshmallow pit, bouncing on the trampoline, or swinging on a giant rope, they don't have time to whine or fight. Very much. It burns up a lot of that toddler/preschooler energy, too, so there's hope for naptime as well. Win-win!

Last week, we got a little note from one of the instructors asking for our feedback about the timing of open gym during Y Camp season this summer.

I discussed the options they gave us with Chelsea, to see what she thought.

Me: The first choice is to move the start time to 8:15am, and we'd have the gym all to ourselves. Or, it could start at 8:30, and we'd have to share the gym with the kids in Gymnastics Camp for the last 15 minutes. OR, it could start the same time it does now, at 9am, and we'd share the gym the whole time. What do you think would be the best?

Chelsea: I want to go to Gymnastics Camp!
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Driving Miss Fussy

It's almost sundown. I'm driving along, westbound, Savannah in the backseat.

The sun is right in our eyes.

She whines: "No 'un! No 'un! No 'un!!!"

I say, mostly calmly: "Close your eyes."

Her, whinier: "No 'un! Nooooo 'unnnnnnn!!!"

Me, yellier: "Turn your head!"

Her, yellier to match: "NO 'UN!"

Me, extra yelly: "Hold up a book in front of your face!"

Her, super yelly: "NOOOOOO 'UNNNNNN!"

On and on and on.

We come to a stop light. The sun is blocked by a tree. I am ready for relief from the yelling.

Her: "Where 'un? Where 'un go? Where 'un?! WHERE 'UN GO!?"

Me, pointing: "It's behind that tree."

Her, whiny: "Where? Where 'un? Where 'un go?"

Me, driving again: "There it is."

Her, the rest of the drive home: "No 'un! ... Where 'un go? ... No 'un! ... Where 'un go? NO 'UN! WHERE 'UN GO?!!!" She whines it, cries it, yells it, tries out a gravelly-devil voice version of it. She even works on the "s" sound, "No zhun! Where jun go?"

I give up talking.

We turn the into our complex. She finally stops whining. Her eyes go wide.

Her, smiling: "BUNNY! I see it! Bunny hopping. Hopping! Hopping everywhere!"

She bounces her two chubby little fingers in the air: "Hopping! Hopping!"

Then just one finger: "One bunny. I see it. Hop away. Hopping everywhere!"

Sun? What sun?
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Sick Day Conversation

Chelsea has a scratch on the outside edge of her nostril from when her face accidentally collided with her father's fingernail the other day.

It is severely hindering her nose-picking, which is one of her top three hobbies these days (right after playing with trains and coloring pictures of trains).

She's not feeling well today, so I was lying down with her as she was settling down for a nap. She told me that her nose was hurting.

Me: Leave it alone. It'll get better faster that way.

Chelsea: But I can't reach inside it!

Me: Reach inside tiger's nose instead. (Tiger is her stuffed lovey.)

Her: Tiger doesn't have a nose!

Me: TIGER DOESN'T HAVE A NOSE?!

Her: Well, she has this kind of nose, but she doesn't have any pokes. (Pointing to tiger's nose and then my nostrils.)

Me: Nostrils.

Her: Yeah.

Me: Poor tiger! How does she breathe without any nostrils?

Her: She's not a real tiger. She just... she's just like... she's made of fuff!

There's no point to this story except that pokes and fuff are my new favorite words.
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Not Quite Clear on the Concept

"Buh!"

That's Savannah's word for milk. It sounds like "book" but without the K.

"BUH!"

We're sure it means milk because she usually drinks her milk out of a certain type of cup and often just seeing that cup will elicit much pointing and many exclamations of "Buh!"

She also knows the sign for milk (opening and closing fist, like milking a cow, which isn't so bad now that her milk actually comes from a cow and not from me) and she will also add the sign if we say, "Do you want some milk?"

I know she can do the M sound because she says "Mama" all the time.
"Mama?"
"Mama!"
"MAAAAAAMAAAAA!!!"

So I'm trying to get her to say "milk." Or at least "Muh."

Savannah: Buh!

Me: Do you want some milk?

Savannah: (nodding, pointing, signing) Buh!

Me: Say milk. MMMMM-milk!

Savannah: MMMMM-BUH!

She's not quite there yet.
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Future Coupon Queen

Chelsea: "Mommy, would you like to buy one of these?" (holding up marker caps on her fingertips, Freddy Krueger style)

Me: (trying to check my email) "No, thank you, honey. Not right now."

Chelsea: "But Mommy, you need to buy dem! Dey are only on sale today!"
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Toddler Time Telling

Chelsea: I 'ike to go to bed at ten o'clock!

Me: Really? Is that early or late?

Her: (after a puzzled pause) Early.

Me: What time do you wake up?

Her: Three o'clock.

Me: And what time is your nap?

Her: Seven o'clock.

Me: Well what time do you wake up from your nap?

Her: Thirty o'clock!

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De-Evolution of Language

Chelsea's language development seemed to follow a pretty normal pattern. She started out as most kids do, saying stuff like, "Ball!" No verbs, no pronouns. All nouns, all the time.

When she was able to string a few more words together, it was, "Chelsea ball!" Could mean "I want the ball," or "I have the ball," or "Give me that damn ball," but she knew her name and used it.

Recently, she's been working on pronouns. For many months we've heard lots of, "YOU WANT THE BALL!" You meaning Chelsea. This is a tricky one to fix because you have to say something like, "If you want the ball you have to say, 'I want the ball.'" And then her eyes cross and her brain explodes.

She's been getting the hang of it though and we are hearing more and more sentences that start with "I" such as, "I CAN DO IT MYSELF!" or, "I'M A BIG SISTER!!!" (which coincidentally also means, "I CAN DO IT MYSELF!").

We thought she was right on track to figuring out this whole how-do-I-talk-about-myself thing. And then she started what I can only describe as narration. Now, when she says something, she also SAYS that she said it.

Wha-huh?

For example, if Jeremy is saying something that she doesn't understand, she'll say, "What are you talking about daddy, she said." (Did you follow that? She actually SAYS "she said." Like her life is a book. And she's reading it to us.)

She even adds to the already unnecessary "she said" (or often, "she asked") with even more unnecessary modifiers: "I would not like to go to bed, she said sadly."

My dear child, you don't need to tell us you said it, because we heard you say it. And you certainly don't need to tell us you said it sadly, because we also heard your pouty tone of voice. She wrote. Exasperatedly.

More Conversational Genius

#1
While eating hot dogs for dinner:

Chelsea: I'M AFRAID OF MUSTARD!

Parents: ???

Chelsea: AND WATER!!

Chelsea: AND SLIDES!!!

Me: ?

Jeremy: Guess we won't be going on that mustard water slide.

#2
(File this one under "Things You Don't Need a PhD in Biology to Figure Out")
In the car:

Chelsea: Why was the 'kunk (skunk) all alone?

Me: I don't remember, sweetheart.

Chelsea: I DON'T REMEMBER EITHER!

Me: Maybe Daddy knows. Ask Daddy.

Chelsea: (breathlessly) Daddy, why was the 'kunk all alone?

Jeremy: Because he stinks.

(Duh!)