Lemonade and Police Cars

Little Evan speaks his own language. I think it’s almost English but I can’t be sure, since most English speakers seem to have a hard time understanding him. Maybe it’s a NickJunioreese, a crazy mix of Spanish, Chinese, and speech-impedimented English picked up from those damn Wonder Pets.

“Meenah” is lemonade. Unless it means banana. You have to look around for a banana. “Peesdar!” is police car. He can say “car” correctly, but when he sees “flash lights” he gets to excited it comes out as one word. “Brusey” is our dog Brutus. He used to say Brutus until he spent some time with my parent’s dog Hershey, and now he smooshes their names together. “Ditty” is kitty, which is an improvement over the previous pronunciation. “Fall denoun” is fall down, which is so cute I don’t even care that it’s wrong. “Bushit” actually means push it, although I don’t think anyone believes me.

As much as I love that he’s friendly and outgoing and eager to talk to everyone, I’m getting tired of translating everything he says to strangers at the grocery store and strangers at the mall and strangers at the playground and strangers in general. I’m not tired at HIM, I’m tired at OTHER PEOPLE. I can only say “I’m sorry, he’s hard to understand” so many times. And the truth is, it’s more a matter of busy people not paying attention than anything else. See that pinecone he’s holding? Maybe he’s saying “pinecone!” You asked him if Caroline was his sister, maybe “bebeh siher” might mean “baby sister!” Most grown-ups rush in and say “Oh aren’t you handsome! How old are you? Are you a good boy? Bye-bye now!” all in one quick breath and then breeze back out without pausing for a response. Or if they do they’re really asking ME, and wouldn’t even notice if he tried to answer. Evan could say “I’m two, lady, and your wig isn’t fooling anyone” and they’d just coo some more and wander off to finish their shopping.

I’ve been around enough two-and-a-half-year-olds-who-then-grow-into-three-and-a-half-year-olds to know this is just a phase. His brain thinks thoughts he wants to share but his mouth just can’t keep up. He learns a hundred new words a day and can’t keep them all straight. Whole sentences come tumbling out in a jumble and he gets frustrated. He’ll grown into it eventually and the whole world will hear what he has to say Dino Dan and race cars and big diggers and baseball and everything else. He’ll stop saying “More meena peees!” and start saying “Mama, can I have a banana?”

Although yesterday he called me “MOM”. I am not OK with being MOM yet. MOM is for surly, eye-rolling teenagers. So maybe I don’t mind translating just a little longer.

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5 Responses to “Lemonade and Police Cars”

  1. Robyn says:

    Oh my gosh! Rory calls me Mom sometimes and i HATE it! i want to be mommy forever! i usually make a big deal out of it and tease her and say, “Who’s Mom? i’m not Mom, I’m Mommy”, which makes her laugh and probably just makes her say it more, lol.

  2. Your posts about Little Evan make me smile because it makes me think about all the things I have to look forward to with Noah. And he’s looking more and more like he’s going to be a little ginger baby, too, once he finally grows more hair.

  3. Sarah-Anne says:

    i have to say that i babysit for a child that has a speech impediment (and i know several that have had one in the past; heck, my little bro was hard to understand!) and it takes time to know what they mean. that’s all, time. unfortunaly, we’re not very patient, are we? ;)

  4. MomEinstein says:

    I think they all speak their own language, and people just need to listen more. If I pay attention, I know exactly what Vicki is saying. You should just translate for him, “Oh, he’s saying that you’re a nosy old bat who should mind her own business.”

  5. Julie S. says:

    Ack! Brayden does the whole MOM thing already too- which is hilarious since he is in speech therapy because he only really says 8-10 words. I liked momma SO much better!

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