At the age of two, our little boy is quite the chatterbox, especially at home. He often rambles for two full minutes, stringing together random thoughts. I can catch enough of his words to grasp the essence of what he’s trying to convey, allowing me to respond with comments like, “Oh, really?” and “Is that so?” My partner and I are beginning to realize just how much he absorbs, mimicking our words like a large, featherless parrot. To navigate this phase, I’ve been refining my vocabulary for alternative expressions, opting for silly phrases such as “Oh, shucks” and “shoot,” which have largely replaced some of the more colorful language I might have used in the past. His absolute favorite is “Mother of PEARL,” which never fails to elicit a hearty giggle.
A few evenings ago, the three of us gathered around the dinner table, and my partner was sharing his success in metal recycling. “Remember how much you teased me about saving all those cans in the garage?” he asked. “Mmmmm-hmmm,” I replied, dishing out Brussels sprouts, only for our son to wail, “Noooo bushel spouts!” I recalled the unsightly piles of aluminum cluttering our garage. While the space was already chaotic, the sight of cans in my son’s beloved Radio Flyer wagon wasn’t my favorite either.
“I got fourteen dollars for those two bags, plus seven bucks for the old car radiator,” my partner announced. “Seven bucks, seven bucks,” our toddler joyfully repeated. This week, his monologue has included a strange refrain of “seven bucks” and the equally mysterious “four times,” along with other phrases that seem to make sense only to him.
Reflecting on my childhood, I remember how my Italian grandmother taught my sister and me the most peculiar phrases in her melodious language, including “I’m single with two kids” and “you have an ugly face.” My mother would often laugh, saying, “Great, now you have to explain what it means.” I still remember how to express various Sicilian phrases, some of which would certainly raise eyebrows. My husband, with his refined English heritage and Texan roots, is appalled when I bring up these linguistic skills. He cannot fathom discussing such topics with our son, but I plan to share these stories in due time, creating laughter just like I had with my grandmother.
Recently, during a Facetime call with my sister and her three daughters, she mentioned the color of her new front door: Black Fox. Our toddler echoed “black fox,” which sounded surprisingly similar to an inappropriate four-letter word—try saying it aloud with a British accent for added effect. Separated by miles and an iPhone, my sister and I burst into laughter, especially when our son leaned into the camera to repeat it. My husband warns that what seems funny now might not be later, and while I try to suppress my giggles during his gas-passing antics, we both share a laugh, while he looks on disapprovingly. We trust that his kindergarten teacher will help in addressing that behavior later.
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In summary, navigating the joys and challenges of parenting a young child involves a constant awareness of their learning and mimicking behaviors. Our son’s ability to absorb language and repeat phrases is a reminder of the influence we have as parents. While we cherish these humorous moments, we also look forward to his growth and learning as he matures.