It's 11:30 Sunday night and by all rights I should be in bed, if not asleep, then pretty darned close. But nooooooooooo. Here I sit. Cigarette burning in the ashtray with witty thoughts to amuse you, one and all. Tonight I think I'll keep it short.
Ever since Zoe was born we have both been talking to her like an adult. As a newborn she would lay in my arms, or be nursing, or doing whatever it is newborns do and I would have a complete conversation with her. I am not a big believer in baby talk and all that goo goo gaa gaa stuff.
That said, it came as no surprise to either Chuck or myself that when she started talking it was pretty much in full sentences right away.
For a three year old she has a lot to say. Complicated ideas and family relationships are not too much for her. It's the words. Sometimes she has a bit of trouble getting her three year old mouth around some of them. So now, a few of my favorites:
Fablias, as in, "Mom, you look fablias." I say fabulous a lot so this is not a real surprise. It's much funnier when it's fablias though, so now it's what I prefer to say.
When we go to McDonald's or Carl's Junior (they're interchangeable for Zoe) she likes to have hangabergs. Usually with cheese on them.
"Momma/Daddy, look, fireplaces." This is what Zoe calls fire engines. I don't know where she gets it from.
Tonight's mispronunciation will go into the Zoe Dictionary Hall of Fame though: fire-eah. What???? Well, at the risk of getting too graphic she had a little upset stomach this evening and had a minor case of diarrhea (or as Chuck prefers to call it, Angry Butt). I asked her if she was OK since she had some diarrhea. "Fire-eah mommy?"
Until next time. . .