Big mouth, smarty-pants: The three-nager emerges

I get to spend a good chunk of my time these days laughing my butt off.  Ethan is blooming into this little mouth on legs, full of interesting points of view, jokes and clever little quips.  Much of my laughing comes out of sheer surprise at the ways he's spontaneously decided to put words, phrases and concepts together in his own novel, unique way. 

I just have to share with you some of more hilarious things he comes out with:

1) New improved food names - Saying things right is tough, and made up words are more fun anyways, we think.  So his unintentional renaming of foods is totally brilliant.  Not cucumber, it's 'fewcumber'.  Not marshmallow, it's 'arse-mallow'.  There's also 'chino', short for cappuccino, which refers to any warm, milky, preferably chocolate-based beverage. And banana phone, which a a normal banana that we pretend to talk into, with a very serious looking face, before cracking open.

2) Onomatopoeia names - There are many hilarious times when he goes about naming things like an Australian.  The names don't sound right, but you have pretty good idea about what he's referring to because it just sounds like a sort of description of that thing.  The other day, squirt gun in hand, he says, 'Mama, I need to phew you....PHEW-phew! PHEW-PHEW!' He pretends to shoot me.  Or that the 'Tig-tig-ah' is the guitar.  He says it such a melodious way, it almost sound like strumming a tune.  Or when he asks me to 'cheese' him, which means, 'Take my photo.'

 

3) Daddy- related things - The relationship between daddy and boy is really a kind of playful power struggle wrapped in fascination with a big dose of admiration.  Ethan kind of wants to be him, kind of wants to get the better of him.  Ethan's words for daddy's things include: 'daddy's milk' (beer), 'daddy's rainbow' (the mouth guard Thom wears at night to stop grinding his teeth), ‘daddy's doggy’ (the paw print tattoo on Thomas wrist).  There are also the comparisons Ethan regularly makes about the similarities and differences between him and daddy.  The other morning he crept into the bedroom.  I spied him out of one half open eye at Thom's side of the bed, inspecting daddy intently before exclaiming at the top of his lungs, 'I have tiny fingers!'  And then there are willies, a club that I am seemingly excluded from, but is a topic of discussion for the fellas of the house.  I overhear him noting the criteria of their exclusive club with, 'You have a winky, dad? I have a winky, too!'

4) The 'shut up and stop being so clever' things - When he was my little bundle of baby fat, the hierarchy was clear cut.  We were the clever ones and he didn't know much.  Now, it is fairly obvious that the old guard is fading and clever clogs is asserting his smarty pants all over the place.  It sucks to be put in your place by a three year old, but that is apparently how it goes sometimes.  It goes like this:

Thom flicking through Instagram, 'Everyone thinks they're a model now! I could be a bloody model!' Ethan, ‘You not.' Thom looks at him open mouthed as Ethan chews a mouthful of cereal, then adds, 'I am!' 

Or when we were informed by his nursery that he was the ring leader in all the little boys covering themselves with coloured marker drawings.  As Thom was washing him off, he explained that we don't draw on ourselves, to which Ethan pointed at Thom's tattoos and astutely replied, 'But daddy do it.'

5) The world revolves around me things – It’s great that he is allowed this brief window of time where everything can seem to be about him.  As challenging as that can feel at times for the parent, it offers some hilarious times that leave me tears.  While strolling through the grocery store, an announcement booms over our heads calling for all checkout people.  Ethan, looking shocked, yells out, ‘Someone’s talking to me!’  Or when I took him to London, stopping of at my office briefly for some lunch and a potty break.  He’s meeting my colleagues and loving all the attention.  One woman I work with comes into the office and greets him with a smile, and he says, ‘You come to say hi to Ethan, too!’

He is scarily sprouting new words and phrases all the time.  Getting far too grown up for me to feel comfortable!  I ran into a friend from baby massage class in what seems like another universe now.  I remember us chatting away over our little, delicate lumps of baby.  It seems now that in those times, their little personalities were hidden, like their arms and legs under baby fat, waiting to emerge.  It struck me, as I chatted with my friend the other day, how different our little ones were now.  Still our babies, but mostly only because we knew that these chatty, opinionated little beings were physically the same as those little lumps of baby fat we massaged somewhere in the seemingly distant past.  I sometimes miss that little ball of cuddly baby, but he's so fun now, I really couldn't choose which stage is better.   It would be impossible to choose.

What in the heck is 'Gammato', Part 2

I think I will be sad when Ethan talks in the same language as us and leaves his own little expressions behind.  In his first few months he used make a little chirping squirrel sound, now gone.  Then it was endless 'da-da', then 'uh-oh', now also changed and used in only appropriate times, like when he sees dad or spills something, rather than the constantly repeated syllables they once were.   In a strange way it seems to suddenly hit me that he is far from that little baby he once was.

He understands more of us than we do of him these days.  I say, 'Don't touch that!' or 'Wait for me, please.' or 'Be patient, just a minute.' and he knows what I mean.  I think the words he has picked up tell us a little something about what ignites his young imagination.  Cars, colours, numbers, cooking utensils, dirt - are all things he has words for.  Numbers especially get him very excited.  So much so, that we have to limit the times of day he can watch one of favourite kids shows, the NumberJacks. 

They are like little number-shaped superheros that live a sofa and come out to help kids solve counting and maths related problems.  Sounds innocent enough, but it sets him off.  He is so excited by it that if he sees it too late in the day, bath time becomes a real battle and he jumps around in bed for a while before finally going to sleep. But he loves it, so now and again we give in.

The other day the Number Jacks were helping to solve a problem where people were counting wrong.  Ethan was chiming along, repeating his favourite numbers.  'Five! Eight! Twenty-nine!'  The went to a bakery and a woman was piling endless cream filled cakes and buns onto a tray. 

'Gammato!' Ethan yelled out.  Thom and I looked at each other, puzzled.  What is this Gammato?  Is it a cake instead of a tomato?  I asked Ethan, what is a gammato? 

'Yes', he answered , matter of factly.  We are none the wiser.  But it makes me a little sad that one day he will be able to tell us exactly what he means and Gammto will be gone.  

What in the heck is 'Gamato'?

Thom is rushing Ethan around the grocery store the other day.  As he scurries down the aisles, Ethan is pointing his little finger everywhere, exclaiming, 'Dinosaur.  Rawr!'

Thom couldn't see any dinosaurs, and after a while asked, 'Where?'

Ethan turned his finger around to reveal a tiny dinosaur sticker on the end of his pointer.

And so it goes, as the little man soaks up language like sponge and then surprise us with it later.  He still has a language all his own, and it frustrates him when we don't get it.

For several weeks, he would turn to us and say, 'Gamato' with such certainty and be wildly upset when we couldn't figure out what it was.  At first we offered tomato, but that wasn't it.  It reached the height of desperation one evening with Thom peering into the fridge with Ethan on his hip, pointing to various food items to find out what was Gamato.  Every item got a big 'No!' from Ethan.

We would spend evenings stewing on it.  Discussing it and mulling it over into the night.

Finally, the other day we BBQed and I was cutting up a tomato to add to dinner.  Ethan pipes up: 'Gamato!'  Our jaws drop.  We only offered him tomato about 300 times when he'd pleaded for Gamato before.

I held one up to him.  'Is this Gamato?'

'Yes', he stated matter a factly, reaching for it.  We sat down to dinner.  And you know, he didn't eat a single one.

Hug

Just about the cutest thing Ethan learned to say over the last few weeks: Hug.  We borrowed a book from the library about a little panda looking for the perfect hug.  Like a lot of the things Ethan soaks in, he didn't seem all that into the hug book at first.  But one morning about a week later, he wandered after me into the kitchen.  Sleepy eyed and still in pj's.  He held up his arms and said, 'Hug.'

Not only is it heartbreakingly cute, but it was also a welcome replacement to the frustrated whinge he had been using to get picked up.  As he's got bigger, he wraps his little arms around, no longer a passive recipient, but an active component of the hug.

But as with all things in Ethan-world, leave it a week and he'll have evolved, learned, progressed.  He soon dialled that 'hug' got him off the floor and closer to the things he finds interesting in a much more predictable way than his wordless whine.  Light switches, computers, shiny knives, hot pans on the stove could all be within reach with a simple 'hug'. 

So we had to be a bit heartless sometimes.  When I'm cooking and Ethan comes along , arms up, chanting 'hug, hug!' I have to say, 'In a minute...'  He doesn't like that and resorts to the wordless whine.  It feels mean, but hug requests while I'm cooking have almost invariably led to him using me as a scaffold to reach out and see how hot the stuff in the frying pan is.  I'm left thinking, Hey, where's that hug?!

So he's employed another word for use when the hug isn't getting him closer to the action - Walk.  Which means 'let me down so I can go to where you won't let me'.  The other day in the grocery store, he wanted to touch everything, throw eggs on the ground and dig into old ladies' handbags.  Proper naughty.  He wanted to grab at something high up and demanded, 'Hug!'  I picked him up, pushing the trolley along with my free hand.  He was not pleased that this 'hug' wasn't actually getting him any closer to the object of his desire.  

'Walk! Walk!' He cried.  I carried on, the shop was almost done and this little man was about to turn monster.  He got more and more upset, struggling against me to get away, until in sheer desperation he turned towards total strangers to help him get to what he wanted.  'Hug!' he yelled at an old woman walking past us in the aisle.  I giggled nervously, hopping the woman wouldn't think he's being kidnapped.  Clever little guy, it was almost enough to get me to give in and let him run riot amongst the old ladies and canned goods.  I can tell I'm going to have keep on my toes with this hug monster!

Fresh eyes

Since Ethan started picking up words, we are busy figuring out if he is asking for that something or just chatting about it.  At first, we were too quick to assume that he was just babbling away, but we've realised that often he's seen something we haven't.  A few weeks ago at tesco, I was loading him into a trolley.  He's chatting away, 'Bird. Bird. Bird.'  I shot a glance around the parking lot, looking for a pigeon or magpie loitering.  But he's pointing upwards.  Does he see one in the trees?  But then I see, in the direction of his tiny pointed finger, a small picture of a pigeon on the trolley shed.  Eagle eyes.  

And so, we've started to question him less and less when he gets out the pointy finger and starts declaring 'Puppy!' 'Star!' 'Bubble!' Or whatever catches his eye.  He notices the smallest details on shirts and pictures.  Things that we've never noticed before or would have missed.  

It's very sweet, his fascination with the things he's learning about.  For instance, this evening, I rushed in after a late running train delayed me, for a quick baby handover as Thom shot off to the tattoo studio.  Ethan was showing me his keys, when he stopped cold and stared at my ears.  He spotted some earrings he'd not seen before.  He gently reached out and touched them, saying, 'Oh, wow!' And then carried on playing. 

It's a great thing to see.  Humbling as we realise how profound an effect the small things have on his world.  And also to see how much we miss in the things around us.  Our perspective is limited.  Age and experience teach us that we can ignore much of what goes on around us and we miss lots of wonderful stuff.  The kinds of stuff that has Ethan exclaiming, 'oh wow!'.

I want to be able to reclaim a bit of that fresh perceptive.  Where everyday things like keys and wooden spoons are appreciated as the musical instruments they can be.  Where nothing is quite so wonderful as a juicy blueberry, a singing bird or a vacant slide at the park.  

I also think about how dismissive people can be of the child's perspective, confusing a lack of knowledge with stupidity.  As though a child's perspective doesn't count because they don't get it.  I'm becoming convinced that sometimes children get it, and we hardened, blinkered adults are the ones missing the point.  Ethan doesn't know about the practicalities of life, like rent and pensions and petrol prices.  But he does understand the important stuff, like hugs and imagination and beauty in little things.  I want a bit more of that myself.

Word up, Dude: The little man speaks

Watching Scooby Do with a teething little man yesterday morning.  Just up from his nap, he was grumpy and leaning into me, with one wary eye at the TV screen.  Scooby Do scrambles into frame and Ethan exclaims, 'Oh dude!'.

tubby time is a favourite time for the word 'duck'

And so recent news from the mamatastic world is words.  We realise now how much Thom uses 'oh dude' and exclamation for exciting events.  Could be worse, and I suppose we have taken it as a warning to initiate language clean up procedures.  

Some days he seems to pick up and throw back every one syllable word he hears.  Shoe, duck, this, rock, bear.  He also seems to store some away, like a secretive sponge, to use later.  

And then there are all the actions he copies.  When I'm in the kitchen, he likes to get into the cupboards with the pots and pans.  He pretends to stir and taste, just like a proper chef.

copying mama's antics at CrossFit

The other day, he seemed really hungry.  He had double lunch portions at nursery and later ate all his dinner and some of mine.  After story time, I asked him if he wanted a biscuit.  He peeked up and said, 'Cake!' (We had been given some lovely cake the week before and he set about the house in a knee-shuffle, cake in hand, chanting 'cake, cake, cake, cake', leaving a trail of crumbs behind).  

I said, 'How about biscuit?'

'Bis-cake!' he said, beaming with anticipation.  And then, something happened that I am going to claim as a first sentence.

'Peas, bis-cake!' he pleaded, making the baby-sign for 'please'.  How could I resist?  He was given a whole shortbread, when normally I would give half, just because it was good moment.  By the time we reached cupboard where the biscuits are kept, he was using two hands to ask for the biscuit.

'Mmmm, cake!'

Dad was also excited to hear about the bis-cake.  The next day I was in London seeing clients all day, leaving Dad to see just what a big talker his little man had become.  I noticed that all but one bis-cake was gone when I returned.