The right words

26 01 2015

Kids play lots of games involving fake tragedy, so they yell “help!” a lot when they don’t need help. And we have several families of playmobil and fisher price dollhouse people, so it’s common for cries of “Mummy!” not to be directed at me either. But when I’m upstairs about to change a baby, and Evanny yells up at me, with some indistinct tumble of words that end in “you rescue me?!” I know she’s actually in some kind of trouble.

It’s an easy trouble to fix this time, luckily, even one handed (as I’m still carrying the baby around): she’s tipped the slide over, while underneath it, and is lying on the floor with her arm extended, holding the whole thing up. But she can’t reach any farther to push it upright, and as her arm gets tired, it’s going to end up on top of her. “Yes,” I laugh, coming down to save her, “I can rescue you.”  This is part of why I have infinite respect for Katy and the other caretakers of the world who teach and look after toddlers–I’m always having to translate for Evanny when she talks to other people, and her speech and diction is often complemented by strangers for being so clear for her age–once I repeat what she’s said, or change a word or two for clarity of reference, people are always like “ohhhhhh.”  It’s just that toddlers have such particular little languages developed through interactions at home, and such wobbly pronunciation of even the shared-obvious ways of telling/asking for things that I’m amazed that anyone who doesn’t live with them ever knows what they’re talking about!


Rescued, and back on her Peppa-Pig-watching tower, which only in the past few months has she started referring to as a “slide” instead of a “whee-down.”




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