Parenting can be a wild ride, and recently I found myself navigating the quirky universe of my six-year-old son, Oliver. This little guy has concocted his own language that he calls “Burrito.” Essentially, he takes the word “burrito” and twists it into a symphony of tones and volumes. When he’s asking a question, he ends on a high note, and when he’s feeling let down, he drags it out in a deep, somber tone. His high-pitched, rapid-fire version comes out when he’s trying to express anger. While he finds this absolutely hilarious, I’m left feeling a bit frazzled.
It was a Saturday morning at 8 AM—prime time for a cup of coffee and some peace before the chaos of the day began. But not for Oliver, who was bouncing off the walls in his Skylanders underwear, tugging at my pants and insisting on repeating “burrito” over and over, all while pointing at the candy perched atop the fridge.
“Oliver,” I sighed, “I’m not up for this right now. Just tell me what you want, in English, please.”
“Burrito,” he replied with a grin.
“Awesome,” I said. “Then you get nothing.”
He didn’t back down. With a determined tug on my pants, he continued with his repetitive chant of “burrito,” as if I would eventually decipher it. I just couldn’t wrap my head around why he found it so amusing. I mean, the kid can speak fluently! He can read and articulate his thoughts clearly when he wants to. I want him to express himself and navigate his feelings, yet here he was, babbling in a language that made absolutely no sense.
Oddly enough, despite his fascination with “burrito,” he won’t actually eat one. His diet consists mainly of ramen noodles, dinosaur-shaped meat, and mac-n-cheese, with a side of Lucky Charms—though he mostly just picks out the marshmallows. I’m baffled by his aversion to the actual food he’s named his imaginary language after.
As I looked at him standing there, fervently repeating “burrito,” I couldn’t shake the thought of how long this would last. Will he be that kid in high school who answers geography questions with “burrito”? What if he thinks he’s being funny but ends up annoying everyone instead?
I crouched down to his level, locking eyes with him. “Oliver, I don’t want to hear the word ‘burrito’ again today. Just tell me what you want in a language I can understand, and I promise I’ll get it for you. I mean it—anything you ask for, you can have. Just use English, okay?”
“Burrito,” he shot back, that impish smile on his face saying, “I’m here for my own amusement, and that’s worth more than anything you can offer!”
I ended up sending him to his room, wondering if this “Burrito” talk was worth punishing. Was I being too strict? As I reminisced about my own childhood antics—like the times I’d made silly faces or fart noises to get laughs—I couldn’t help but think he might just be following in my footsteps. Would sending him to his room change the quirky genes I’d passed on to him?
This parenting journey is filled with odd moments like these, and while they drive me a bit crazy, they also remind me of the joy and unpredictability of raising a little weirdo. For more parenting insights, check out our other posts, like this one on home insemination kits, which offers great information for those on a similar journey.