Hey good lookin!

My children enjoy yet another year in the public school education system. Whilst the speech delays are still with us nevertheless they grow and change daily.

We arrive at the weekend after completing the first successful week, hopefully the first of many. It is whilst I am cooking lunch that my son accosts me in the kitchen.
“What what dear?”
“Wot is it being?”
“What am I cooking? Um…..a fragrant concoction.”
“Wot it is being?”
“Fragrant is another word for smell.”
“What you be fragranting?”
“The smell or fragrance? That’s probably the Oregano, it’s a herb. Isn’t it lovely?”
“Wot is it being?”
“The other smells? Take a peek in the pan and a sniff. It’s either bacon, garlic or possibly the beans you can smell?”
“Beans, beans they make you smart, the more you eat the more you fart.”

And don’t forget to add your name to the “book giveaway.”

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Leaving their tails behind them

I field all the usual protests that are commonplace at mealtimes in most houses.

“Wot’s for dinner Mom?”
“Shepherd’s pie.”
“Yuk I hate it.”
“I hate pie.”
“I hate shepherds.”
“Dummy! You don’t even know what a shepherd is!”
“Don’t speak to your brother, anybody, like that please?”
“Anything else? No vegetables please?”
“Only peas, frozen peas I’m afraid.”
“Can’t we have corn?”
“I don like peas, peas is poison.”
“I don’t like frozen.”
“I’ll cook them….warm them up first dear.”
“Hang on a minute………dya mean Shepherd’s pie or Cottage pie?”
“Er….” I try and recall which trip wire I’m about to hang myself on.
“Din you say Shepherds pie is made of sheep?”
“Sort of, that’s right, lamb but Cottage pie is made out of beef.”
“Oh no I hate the lamb’s tails one!”
“No, no, no, that’s back in the olden days, we don’t make them out of lambs’ tails any more, just minced…..meat.”
“If we’re gonna have disgusting dinner are we gonna have delicious pudding to make up for it?”
“Um…..I haven’t quite got that far yet.”
“But that’s what you always do.”
“What is it that I always do?”
“When you give us poisonous dinner we also get delicious pudding, carrot and stick!”
“Carrot……carrots is poison.”
“I don eat stick.”
“No guys it’s like a bribe, like an M&M for doin the right thing.”

Clearly I need to rise to newer and higher levels of dastardly sophistication.

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The Discovery Channel and fine tuning


For Carolyn and David – hope your translation powers are up to par!

“I have been dah discovered!”
“Really? What have you discovered dear?”
“I have discovered……dat…….I am not liking dah green eggs and ham.” I look at him. Is he telling something that I don't already know? Something that he didn't know? Or is this just a way of exercising the use of a new favourite word 'discovered'?
“Well thank you so much for telling me that dear.” It's genuine, I really am glad that he now wishes to share little matters of a trivial or social nature.
“D'you know wot?”
“What dear?”
“Dere are uvver fings dat I am discovered too!”
“I'm sure there are. Would you like to tell me some of them perhaps?”
“No! Dey are dah secret discovered.”
“Secrets. Oh you shouldn't have any secrets, well at least you shouldn't have any secrets from me. Never have secrets from your mum.” I deliver this in what I hope is an authoritative tone or maybe a warning.
“Er…..what it is?”
“What is what dear?”
“Dah voice?”
“What voice?”
“Er…..yur voice dat is coming from you?”
“I mean it is dah lagoon.”
“What is a lagoon?”
“Yur voice is dah lagoon.”
“It is?”
He pulls a scary face, leers with claw hands by his ears, to mimic a breathy horror movie tone, “yes, you are dah secret of dah black lagoon.”

Oh dear! It seems I'll have to mind my tone, and moderate my moan.

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Book Choice – reciprocal exchange we love you

“Tell you what!”
Horray! Months of speech therapy just to elicit this particular typical response.
“You pick the book and I'll read it to you for a change.”
“I am not being dah reader?”
“Just a thought.”
“Which book I am reading?”
“Doesn't matter. Anything you like.”
“You are not er….doing dah choosing?”
“Wot I choose?”
“You tell me?”
“Anyfink but dah diamond book?”
“Which 'diamond' book?”
“Dah one wiv all dah diamonds.”
“Which one is that?”
“Agh! I not say it.”
“Why won't you say it?”
“Coz den you will be remembering it and you will be making me be reading it again.”
“I don't make you read books!”
“Liar! Liar! Liar!”
I try and work out which nerve I've touched? But he relents and takes pity on me. “It's o.k. Your old lickle brain is not working good, but I have a brain of good remembering, because it is big.”
“You're right! Clever big brain. So what book do I make you read?”
“Agh! You are dah stoopid one! You are making me read dah books dat are coming home from school.”
“Oh. Yes, you're quite right, you do have to read those ones, but I don't remember one about diamonds?”
“I fink it shrink!”
“What is shrinking?”
“Your stoopid brain.”
Fell right into that one! He's probably right there too. In case you wonder why I don’t correct him, guide him to more appropriate responses, this is merely due to the fact that I am too happy wallowing in the ‘joy’ of experiencing ‘conversation.’ [translation = reciprocal exchange]
“O.k. I give up. Which one was the diamond one?”
“'I'll love you forever'! It had dah diamond periods! Remember!” he bellows, angry breath blasts my face.

Of course! How could I have forgotten? His book of the week from school, “I’ll love you forever,” had diamond shaped periods [translation = full stops] instead of the ordinary round black dots. How could I possibly expect the poor child to read such a nightmare of a book again. Publishers should take far more care with their punctuation, or more importantly, the shape of their punctuation, unless they wish to alienate a whole generation of potential readers.

And humble apologies to all those who favour different punctuation,spelling, font and colour schemes, all of which are beyond my technical control. [Translation = especially those annoying little cross bone tool icons in the side bar – enough to drive you…..

to an irritating place!]

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“Do they breed?”
“I'm sorry?”
“Lizards. I mean, not do they breed but how do they breed?”
I’m not convinced that his emphasis clarifies his question? I look into the bleary eyes of my husband. [translation = significant other] Is it morning or night, if you return home from work at 3 and it's still dark?
“Well don't quote me, but I have my suspicions.”
“Do you think we should check on-line what sex they are?”
“I'll add it to me 'to do' list if you like. Put your mind at rest.”
“Don't you think that one is looking a bit pudgey?” We peer into the aquarium.
“What it is?” pounces Junior.
“What is what dear?”
“Dah 'pudgey'?” he blurts.
“He is not dah fat! He is dah cute.” Never insult a lizard regardless of the time of day.
“Maybe he’s about to have a growing spurt?” I offer.
“Maybe, perhaps grow a bit longer.”
“Dey don’t shed, it is dah “snakes dat are shed,” not lizards.”
“That's as well as may be,” spouse adds, raking his hair. “Let’s not get bogged down in “that” again.”
“What it is?”
“What is what, dear?”
“Dah 'may be'? It is dah same as dah 'maybe'?”
Spouse leans on the edge of the table, fingertips tented and breathes deeply. He swallows a yawn at five minutes past six in the morning, before continuing, “well he may also be pregnant.”
I look at my husband. He looks at me. His eyes widen, slightly. We both know, that it didn't come out quite right. We look at junior and wait for the question.

It doesn't come. Instead he asks “how many?”
“How many what dear?”
“How many dah babies he is having? Er…….eggs dat are havin dah babies inside of dah shell?”
Oh great. Just great.
“I'll leave you to explain that one dear, I have toast to burn.”

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Change of Name Deed

I wait patiently, lurking in the shadows, as my boys hang over the edge of the aquarium, bidding a fond farewell to their reptiles.
“We love you ickle wickle ones. Be good boys why we are away!”
“Dey are not boys, idiot!” admonishes one non verbal child, to the older but more severely speech delayed child. The soothing tones with which they coo, are reserved for the animal kingdom. Mankind, does not fair so well in the humane department.
“Do dey have food?”
“Yes, idiot. Look dey have dah healfee foodz!” blurts the neophobic one. He may not eat any of it himself, but he is more than capable of appreciating what a healthy diet might consist of.
“Look at iz lickle claws! Day are so cute. Ain't you jus dah little gorgeous one!”
“He dah beautiful. He is dah stripey. We love him cutsie wootsie one.”

Oh please! Get on with it won't you boys. How many compliments can a few small cold blooded creatures take? Don't you think you're going a bit over the top? The 'compliments' lesson with the speech pathologist, was weeks ago now. How come this skill has to percolate through to the surface right now, just as they're about to go out. Couldn't they have delayed the arrival of this skill until they arrived at the restaurant? Couldn't the average over worked, underpaid server, benefit so much more greatly from the odd kindness? Why waste all these words on reptiles?

Spouse yells at them from the garage, 'now or never,' to lure them to the car, to take them to the restaurant, just the four of them, whilst I wait at home, the non eating member of the party. They scamper past me in a blur. I scamper after them just in time to see the garage door close. Hey! What about me! Don't I get so much as a non verbal hand wave?

Talk about immature, attention seeking behaviour!

I'm seriously thinking of changing my name to 'lizard.'

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