My six-year-old son, Max, has taken to speaking in a language he calls “Pasta.” Essentially, he repeats the word “pasta” with variations in pitch and volume. When he asks a question, he raises the tone at the end. If he’s feeling down, he drags it out in a low, somber tone. And when he’s angry? Well, that word comes out fast and high-pitched. He finds it absolutely hilarious.
I, on the other hand, do not.
It was 8 AM on a Saturday, and I had just rolled out of bed. The last thing I wanted to hear was my son chattering away in Pasta. Clad in his superhero pajamas, he eagerly tugged at my pants, pointing at something—likely the candy stashed on top of the fridge—and repeating “pasta” with utter glee.
“Max,” I said, trying to suppress my annoyance. “I’m not in the mood for this. Please tell me what you want—in English.”
“Pasta,” he replied, grinning.
“Great. Then you get nothing,” I said, trying to stand firm.
But Max was relentless. He pulled harder on my pants, still repeating that infuriating word as if I would suddenly understand. I knew he was capable of expressing himself clearly; he could speak well, read, and articulate his needs. As a parent, I value clear communication. I want my kids to express their wants and frustrations because that promotes growth and self-awareness. Yet, I couldn’t see how his Pasta language was helping him achieve that.
What baffled me even more was that he found the word “pasta” to be the height of comedy. Ironically, he won’t eat pasta at all. His diet mostly consists of ramen noodles, dinosaur-shaped nuggets, and mac-and-cheese, and while he enjoys Lucky Charms, he only consumes the marshmallows. It’s unclear where he even derived this Pasta language from, as it certainly isn’t based on his eating habits.
All I could think about was how long this would go on. Would he still be answering questions in Pasta when he was in high school? Would he think he was being funny when, in reality, he might just be annoying everyone around him?
I crouched down to meet his gaze. “Max, I don’t want to hear the word pasta again today. Just tell me what you want in English, and I promise I’ll get it for you. This is your golden ticket. You could ask for cookies, and I would get them for you. Just ask in a language I can understand, okay?”
“Pasta,” he said, flashing me a mischievous grin that suggested he was more interested in his own amusement than any reward I offered.
I sent him to his room, pondering whether speaking in Pasta was worthy of punishment. Was I being too harsh? My mind drifted to my own childhood, where I often faced ridicule for being quirky. I remembered the smiles from girls that I managed to ruin with silly antics. Was Max following in my footsteps? Was I inadvertently passing down the awkward genes?
In that moment, I realized that these quirks are part of what makes him uniquely him, even if they do drive me a little crazy. Embracing his individuality, while challenging at times, is essential for his growth.
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Summary
Navigating the quirks of parenthood can be challenging, especially when it comes to our children’s unique ways of expressing themselves. From a son speaking in a made-up language to understanding the importance of clear communication, embracing their individuality is key to fostering growth.
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