Tuesday, November 17, 2009

And Louder Means You're "Right-er"

Sasha’s daycare provider has been kind of amazed by the sudden blossoming of his language. We’re no longer talking in simple sentences or parroting phrases. Sasha’s having full on conversations and is an-all-day running narrative of everything that comes into his head. It’s at a point where he can’t nap or fall asleep at night from the stream of words that pours out of his mouth. It’s almost as if he’s afraid he’d drown in the words if he kept them from flowing. From a complete retelling of “Follow that Bird” to his explanations on why scarecrows are scary, to a song he just made up about his frog. His pronounciation is not the best (some of them you just need to know Sasha-ese) and he’s developed a lisp, but he is a serious talker.

He's also an obvious mediterrranean, despite having gotten my Irish coloring. His hands...oh how he has to dramatize and emphasize every phrase with his hands. Both his Italian and Spanish relatives find it amusing to see how this little tiny person has the same gesticulation they all do.

This leap in language to regular "kid speak" is how we’ve learned Sasha’s logic is impeccable.

Of course, only if you have knowledge of the world equivalent to that of someone who hasn’t even been alive for 3 years. More than that, and you know he's missing something.

But his lack of understanding and his total assurance of his own mind has become somewhat hilarious.


He’s been learning about Santa Claus. We’ve explained Christmas is a big birthday party for Jesus where EVERYONE gets presents (because sharing makes Jesus happy). And Santa Claus brings some for all the children. He comes down the chimneys (in houses with chimneys) and sneaks them in when you’re asleep and you’re supposed to leave him a snack to say ’Thank you’.

He seemed to get this. But then he asked his Grandma a question that has become something of an argument.

“Where’s the elevator?”

He’s POSITIVE now that if Santa is going up and down chimneys, they must house secret elevators. The explanation of “magic” is completely unconvincing. He now demands everyone work the elevator upon seeing a fireplace.


We were watching a movie on TV. A movie Hubby and I know pretty well and is fairly family friendly. Unfortunately, the programming people must not have because when Hubby left the room to get snacks an advertisement for a…umm…pump—of an intimate and masculine nature—came on.

I was shocked and forgot to rewind and pause it till we could bleep past (and I was laughing too hard… Yes, part of my brain is like a 15 y.o. boy.).

Fortunately, our little boy is very young and innocent and didn’t fully comprehend the commercial.

“Dat man’s bike’s bwoken.”

I don’t know when he learned about bicycle pumps, but I’m grateful he did!

1 comment:

caramama said...

Elevators in the fireplace! I love it!

I relate to talking with hands, being of Italian heritage. My husband says that if I sit on my hands, I wouldn't be able to talk. haha.

I love these stories. Thanks for sharing them.