Strictly Parental Comment: noun. A comment that a person never thought they would say until they became parents.
Here's a list of some examples from my house:
Get that off the dog.
That's not a hat.
You are no longer allowed to say "butt."
What made you think that was a good idea?
Oh, please. You're not innocent in this (to Monkey Son #2).
Get off the top of the couch.
Stop jumping on the couch.
Stop doing headstands on the couch.
Ok, now you can sit on the floor.
Get out of my closet.
Close your mouth and open your ears.
Be quiet when the weather guy is talking (this was during a nasty storm).
No, and stop asking.
I'm watching the tossed salad and scrambled eggs show.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Random Silliness
Random Silliness: noun. A seemingly random comment, word, or action that makes no sense whatsoever.
I have a feeling that there will be more than one entry on this over time. But today, I want to talk about the yellow pants.
Husband, Monkey Sons #1 and 2 and I were in the car on the way to the library, when Monkey Son #1 found a spare pair of his pants I left in the car after a recent day trip. He yelled out, "The yellow pants are singing and eating me!"
Huh? I asked him to repeat what he said, and again he claimed that the yellow pants were singing and eating him. Husband and I just laughed it off as another instance of preschooler nonsense.
And no, the pants were not yellow.
I have a feeling that there will be more than one entry on this over time. But today, I want to talk about the yellow pants.
Husband, Monkey Sons #1 and 2 and I were in the car on the way to the library, when Monkey Son #1 found a spare pair of his pants I left in the car after a recent day trip. He yelled out, "The yellow pants are singing and eating me!"
Huh? I asked him to repeat what he said, and again he claimed that the yellow pants were singing and eating him. Husband and I just laughed it off as another instance of preschooler nonsense.
And no, the pants were not yellow.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Baby Song
Baby Song: noun. A song that a baby sings, that though is an actual song, is so garbled it is unrecognizable to adult ears. see also, July 4 entry, "Baby Word."
When Monkey Son #2 learned how to clap a few months ago, I celebrated as only a mother can. I told Husband. I called my sister. I just felt so proud and happy that he could...hit one hand on another. Yes. Definitely a Mommy thing.
Fast forward to a few days ago, when he started clapping at random. Getting out of the car. Sitting on the floor. Clap clap clap. Husband laughed and asked why he was clapping. I had to admit that I had no idea.
But now, we've figured it out. Yesterday, he was sitting on the floor, once again clapping. But this time, he kept saying, "Eh-deh. Eh-deh. Eh-deh."
As I watched him, I formed an idea, and said, "Patty-cake, patty-cake, baker's man. Bake me a cake..."
Bingo! My hunch was rewarded with quite a happy reaction from Monkey Son #2. His clapping, and, um, singing, was merely his baby-talk version of the age old nursery rhyme, and he was thrilled that I finally understood.
Now, if I could just figure out why he occasionally swears off nap time, I'd be set.
And a note to those reading: I'll be taking Sunday and Monday off from the Mom-tionary. The next post will come be on Tuesday.
When Monkey Son #2 learned how to clap a few months ago, I celebrated as only a mother can. I told Husband. I called my sister. I just felt so proud and happy that he could...hit one hand on another. Yes. Definitely a Mommy thing.
Fast forward to a few days ago, when he started clapping at random. Getting out of the car. Sitting on the floor. Clap clap clap. Husband laughed and asked why he was clapping. I had to admit that I had no idea.
But now, we've figured it out. Yesterday, he was sitting on the floor, once again clapping. But this time, he kept saying, "Eh-deh. Eh-deh. Eh-deh."
As I watched him, I formed an idea, and said, "Patty-cake, patty-cake, baker's man. Bake me a cake..."
Bingo! My hunch was rewarded with quite a happy reaction from Monkey Son #2. His clapping, and, um, singing, was merely his baby-talk version of the age old nursery rhyme, and he was thrilled that I finally understood.
Now, if I could just figure out why he occasionally swears off nap time, I'd be set.
And a note to those reading: I'll be taking Sunday and Monday off from the Mom-tionary. The next post will come be on Tuesday.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Baby Word
Baby Word: noun. A word spoken by a baby that is so mispronounced, it is unrecognizable if taken out of context.
When Monkey Son #1 was less than a year old, he started saying "goo-gak." It wasn't mere baby talk or the random babble that babies make. He was using it as a word. But what could it mean? We were just baffled.
Finally, we were watching PBS one day, and Sesame Street came on. When Cookie Monster came on the screen, Monkey Son #1 said, "Goo-gak!"
"Goo-gak?" I said. Then I looked at the screen. "Cookie?"
"Goo-gak!"
Oh. Cookie, referring specifically to Cookie Monster. The only similarity between the two words is the "oo" sound in the middle and that they are both 2 syllabals, but for some reason, they were close enough to each other to sound right to those baby ears.
Now, next time, we'll talk about baby songs.
When Monkey Son #1 was less than a year old, he started saying "goo-gak." It wasn't mere baby talk or the random babble that babies make. He was using it as a word. But what could it mean? We were just baffled.
Finally, we were watching PBS one day, and Sesame Street came on. When Cookie Monster came on the screen, Monkey Son #1 said, "Goo-gak!"
"Goo-gak?" I said. Then I looked at the screen. "Cookie?"
"Goo-gak!"
Oh. Cookie, referring specifically to Cookie Monster. The only similarity between the two words is the "oo" sound in the middle and that they are both 2 syllabals, but for some reason, they were close enough to each other to sound right to those baby ears.
Now, next time, we'll talk about baby songs.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Case of Literal Misinterpretation
Case of Literal Misinterpretation: noun. A situation in which a child misunderstands a word or phrase do to its confusing literal meaning.
Some words and phrases totally baffle Monkey Son #1. For instance, a few months ago when Husband and I went to vote, we brought Monkey Sons with us. When we went back to the car to leave, we saw our neighbor just arriving.
Husband: We should have car pooled.
Monkey Son #1: Car pool?
Mommy (to Monkey Son #1): What's a car pool?
Monkey Son #1: A pool for cars?
Yesterday, we went to the zoo to celebrate Monkey Son #2's first birthday, even though he's not quite one yet. They had a great time watching the animals, especially the ones that interacted with people, such as the otters that tried to play with the people through the glass, and a parrot that constantly said, "Back to work! Ha ha ha!" But then we got to the bobcat. In another case of literal misinterpretation, he asked, "Is his name Bob?"
Ah, the wonders of a child's mind.
Some words and phrases totally baffle Monkey Son #1. For instance, a few months ago when Husband and I went to vote, we brought Monkey Sons with us. When we went back to the car to leave, we saw our neighbor just arriving.
Husband: We should have car pooled.
Monkey Son #1: Car pool?
Mommy (to Monkey Son #1): What's a car pool?
Monkey Son #1: A pool for cars?
Yesterday, we went to the zoo to celebrate Monkey Son #2's first birthday, even though he's not quite one yet. They had a great time watching the animals, especially the ones that interacted with people, such as the otters that tried to play with the people through the glass, and a parrot that constantly said, "Back to work! Ha ha ha!" But then we got to the bobcat. In another case of literal misinterpretation, he asked, "Is his name Bob?"
Ah, the wonders of a child's mind.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Swear of Mispronunciation
Swear of Mispronunciation: noun. A word that a child mispronounces, and ends up coming out as a swear word.
Monkey Son #1 sometimes says some strange things. He'll yell out, "You're a baby powder!" and we are supposed to know exactly what that means. Well, the best we can figure, it means nothing, and he's just looking for a silly reaction.
However, some things he says are hard to understand, just because they are mispronounced. And sometimes, what comes out of my sweet little boy's mouth is just shocking.
The other day, I was changing Monkey Son #2's diaper, and Monkey Son #1 was hovering.
Monkey Son #1 (referring to his brother being changed): He is a diaper a**!
Mommy: What?
Monkey Son #1: He's a diaper a**.
Mommy (a little baffled and upset, calling to Daddy): Do you know what your son just said? He called his brother a diaper a**!
Monkey Son #1: He's a diaper a**!
Daddy: Diaper rash?
Monkey Son #1: Yes.
Oh, diaper rash. I see. Just another form of odd name calling he's picked up, similar to being called a baby powder. Children should come with translators. Oh, wait. That's what I'm supposed to be.
Monkey Son #1 sometimes says some strange things. He'll yell out, "You're a baby powder!" and we are supposed to know exactly what that means. Well, the best we can figure, it means nothing, and he's just looking for a silly reaction.
However, some things he says are hard to understand, just because they are mispronounced. And sometimes, what comes out of my sweet little boy's mouth is just shocking.
The other day, I was changing Monkey Son #2's diaper, and Monkey Son #1 was hovering.
Monkey Son #1 (referring to his brother being changed): He is a diaper a**!
Mommy: What?
Monkey Son #1: He's a diaper a**.
Mommy (a little baffled and upset, calling to Daddy): Do you know what your son just said? He called his brother a diaper a**!
Monkey Son #1: He's a diaper a**!
Daddy: Diaper rash?
Monkey Son #1: Yes.
Oh, diaper rash. I see. Just another form of odd name calling he's picked up, similar to being called a baby powder. Children should come with translators. Oh, wait. That's what I'm supposed to be.
Non-decorative Decorations
Non-decorative Decoration: noun. A decorative item that, due to the presence of young children, can not be used as a decoration.
We've been to that person's house, haven't we? The one with glass items everywhere? Looks pretty, right?
When you walk into my house, there are no such objects. It's not that I don't have any. I don't have many, but I have some. They mainly reside on top of a very tall wardrobe in my bedroom or on a high shelf in the closet. My favorite of these items is a porcelain Cinderella music box that my grandmother gave me a few years ago, and right now, I'm looking at the shelf I'd like to put it on. But then, I remember my Monkey Sons, or as one or both of them are called at times, Mr. Grabby Hands.
I've seen parents' houses that have such lovely things out in the full reach of their children, and I have to wonder how they do it, and why I can't make whatever they are doing work for me. I may tell them not to touch something, but I know as soon as my back is turned, those little Monkey Boys are going right for the forbidden object.
So for now, my little music box will remain on top of my wardrobe. And as for the parents that have those nice little items everywhere? I choose to believe that those items are broken and replaced on a weekly basis. It makes me feel better about myself.
We've been to that person's house, haven't we? The one with glass items everywhere? Looks pretty, right?
When you walk into my house, there are no such objects. It's not that I don't have any. I don't have many, but I have some. They mainly reside on top of a very tall wardrobe in my bedroom or on a high shelf in the closet. My favorite of these items is a porcelain Cinderella music box that my grandmother gave me a few years ago, and right now, I'm looking at the shelf I'd like to put it on. But then, I remember my Monkey Sons, or as one or both of them are called at times, Mr. Grabby Hands.
I've seen parents' houses that have such lovely things out in the full reach of their children, and I have to wonder how they do it, and why I can't make whatever they are doing work for me. I may tell them not to touch something, but I know as soon as my back is turned, those little Monkey Boys are going right for the forbidden object.
So for now, my little music box will remain on top of my wardrobe. And as for the parents that have those nice little items everywhere? I choose to believe that those items are broken and replaced on a weekly basis. It makes me feel better about myself.
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