[Her Own] Language Development

I can't imagine being my daughter's age and suddenly being able to put things together, from brain to mouth, getting thoughts out into the world. 

Or maybe I can.  I remember the first time I said something in Spanish, correctly, in the actual context of a situation.  It's one thing to sit in a classroom and learn "guantes de lana" and "donde está la biblioteca," but suddenly all made sense when my friend's dad opened the door in Mexico City and I thought for a second and stammered, "Dónde está Daniela?"

Perhaps even more relevant was when the Japanese exchange student my senior year would make up inane little sayings that had more to do with how something sounded than it's actual English meaning.  (and we already know what sort of mayhem can result from that!)   Our authentic appreciation, in the form of hilarious laughter and endless repetition, probably encouraged her.  Like when she tried to convince my friend Chip to run for class president with the slogan, "Eat Eat Vote Vote Chip Chip." 

My daughter is the Japanese exchange student.

She is making connections which are logical yet hysterical. 
A good example:  boobs = milk. 
Well, sure.  She nursed to some extent until about 16 months or so, and knew the sign for milk and would tug at my shirt or poke me in the boobie and sign furiously, "milk milk milk!"  Now all boobs are milk.  Mama has "milk."  Marble statues have "milk."  Even just nipples are milk - cuz Dada and other babies have "milk" too.
Lately she'll pull the end of her shirt down over her knees so that they show through the material, and proudly say, "Nanoo's big milk, mama, look!  Nanoo have milk like mama"  Oh God.

Big = Dada
I will always remember my dear niece Molly.  She'd been seeing this "Saby" fellow around with her Aunt Lina for almost two whole summers, and couldn't figure out why.  We walked out onto the dock where she and her siblings were fishing, and I heard her exclaim, "Saby is Aunt Lina's DADDY!"  Ahhhhh.  Any boy that completes the set with another girl must obviously be a Daddy, because of the precedent set by her own Mommy and Daddy.  Ta da! 
Similarly, all things "big" and in anyway superlative in E's life are "dada."  Dada bite, dada loud.  Dada spider.  Dada sound.  Occasionally they are Dada Big, which must be just freakin' MASSIVE.  Have you met my husband?  He's Dada Dada.

Mama Mia references:
Anyone with pigtails or two braids is "honey honey" (notice the friends hairstyles during that song), and anyone with their belly showing is "jimmie jimmie jimmie" (like most of the outfits in that number).  Note that "jimmie" is said with a Hispanic J, so it's really "himmy" - and where this evolved from I know not.  She has tried to tie a bandana around her "milk" and go outside to sing "jimmie jimmie jimmie" but we're working on discouraging it...









 

Language Development

Bizarre how long ago it seems that I was transcribing the list of E's signs-and-then-words from the dry erase board in the kitchen to Spampylandia.  Oh, how quickly things have changed.

First came the two syllable words.  Then two words paired.  "More cheese" may have been the first of E's that didn't include "Mama"  (as in, "no mama" or "more, mama").  Then on July Fourth (or perhaps actually Saturday July 3rd, as it fell by the calendar) she spouted her first three word sentence of sorts, thanks to her buddy the big talker Pie, who is a quarter of a year older and more often than not, way ahead of her in the chitter-chatter.
Playing together on the slides at Shoup Park, E happily proclaimed "I do it!"  Notice the nifty pronoun as well.  That was a first.

Fast forward through some memorable events and their corresponding memorable phrases:

• buddy Gabe visiting with us over Labor Day ("shhh Gabe, no cry");  
• Dance class begins in September, and we've lied to get Elena into the 2.5 year old class with Pie.   More notably, when signing up for the class, we walked over to the wall of glass separating the pool area and E shouted like Big Chief Kickapoo about water and frogs... while Pie sagely noted in her breathy, logical way, "I... haven't... got... my swim togs."   (at this point, we decided to let E watch more Kipper, as the easy alternative to Pie's parents taking her in for language training!)
• Halloween ("trickotreeeeeat!"); 
• Thanksgiving with friends from Michigan, Chicago and Indiana ("where's aunties gone, mama? where's uncles?); 
• Thanksgiving buffet at the American Cafe downtown, where I let E carry her own plate back and forth warning her to watch out for all the people.  She returns to the buffet for dessert warning everyone in her path, "Watch out peoples!" 
• pre-Christmas brings the beginnings of a pacifier-regression where she wants it more outside of her crib than ever before, but we remember her first "big" grammatically correct sentence coming from that - "Look mama, I have my orange paci!"
• the advent of football season and her more theatrical than speech-related football player impressions  ("Yook!  yook!  poopall.  I running!" [then run-run-run, fake a dramatic catch, and fall down] "I fall down poopall, mama!  Dada, yook!  Poopall!")  
• Somewhere between there and Christmas was the first time she earnestly looked me in the eyes and told me, "Listen, mama."  OH MY GOODNESS... the scary reality of kids absorbing your every move sinks in then.
• Christmastime (which, thanks to a trip to Big Lots and a prelighted Christmas tree, began on Election Day 2010 and continued through the first week of January) where our bedtime routine grew to include, "Merry CHRISTmas, Happy New YEAAAAR" (emphasis hers), the recognition of Santa and snowmen at every turn (in stores, tv, signs, even yards), and her shocking-at-the-time ability to recognize Charlie Brown on wrapping paper after watching the Christmas special once a few weeks prior.  She didn't cry on Santa's lap, but she didn't exactly love the experience... though her watching the video message from Santa made me cry, and cry, and cry...
• In December sometime, E rightfully dubbed E-mac "Baby Loud."  Tells her on and off that "thisees OURS" and then takes toys away.  I don't mind since the "mine" stage is supposed to be very annoying and this "ours" novelty sounds delightfully Quaker... or Communist.  
• One January day we wander out, blanket-wrapped, to the mailbox and find a returned and damaged package inside.  "Oh shit!" is my gasped reaction when I realize what it is (it was an autographed book and family photos originally destined for my father-in-law) and Elena thoughtfully shows her empathy.  "Its broken, mama?"  Yes baby, it appears to be very broken and damaged, Mama is very sad.            She turns her face angelically to face mine, and with great concern asks, "its... f*cking, mama?" OH. MY. GOODNESS.   Wrong language for a two-and-a-half year old, but absolutely an A+ for correct context.  Appropriate serious discussion about good and bad words follows.  Hilarious recounting to Dada and friends also once child is safely in bed away from my uncontrollable laughter.  This is promptly archived in the "omg they absorb everything file" for all eternity.

• a water bottle cast off by buddy Gabe becomes officially known as "Rachel water" (and she teaches 16 month old twins the term "rachel water" later in March)
• Fearing the banishment and play restrictions that come with hurting herself, E officially becomes Baby BadAss by shouting "I feel better!" anytime any sort of actual or perceived injury occurs.  If you ask her if she's okay, she'll answer "No!" but that means yes.  Conversely, at the sound of any thump or "ow" or expletive, she'll come running and ask you if you're okay... and in the case of the expletive, tell you not to say that.
• Sometime in February we notice that E officially calls anyone who is Indian or Indian-looking "auntie" or "uncle", something she gathered on her own via all our friends.  The Spice Goddess becomes a bit of a regular in our house, and E comes running to the sound of her introduction, and narrates...  "There's cooking auntie!  Oh auntie... auntie is SO busy"  (although busy comes out more like "bizzzz-zie")  "Cooking hot ap-tay-toes, cutting onions.  Oooooooh, busy auntie!"
• The terrible twos never happened, though the terrible-two-and-a-halves pop up now and then.  I think it was late February the first time I was thoughtfully admonished by E:  "don't scream, mama... don't scream!"  This seems to bring us both back from the edge of whatever insanity we'd just experienced.
• Then we fly to California for a week of business for Dada, randomness for E and I.   Notably E impresses our Delta-flight neighbors with her renditions of Rihanna's "Umbrella", Lady Gaga's "Telephone", and unabashed overuse of  please and thank you.  She gifts three-dimensional bug stickers to the kind bioengineering professor next to us and wears sunglasses for the entire awake portion of both legs.  She eats her weight in cookies.  Maybe I'll remember more of what she actually SAID later.  She did tell an engaging man on the flight home that her cousins Leah and Lisa are her best friends in the whole world.
• Returning home from California, she's gathered in the use of "together", "everybody" and "upside down".  This may not sound like much, but a parent knows that strange feeling when you start hearing some all-together different and new words come out of your kid's mouth.  It's so novel.  So neat-o.  So much fun.