As I hinted in my last post, the Peanut, like any good two-year-old, has several endearing speech quirks that make my heart melt with love. I know most (all) of these will self-correct on their own, but I wish they wouldn’t quite so quickly. One of my favorites earlier in the month, ‘punkits,’ has already been modified to the correct ‘pumpkins’ and there’s no going back. This in spite of my best efforts to keep it at ‘punkits.’
Me: “Honey, you want to go pick out a punkit?”
Peanut: (Squeal!) “Pumpkins!!!”
Me: “Yes, Punkits!”
Me: “Just say ‘punkit’ for Mommy one more time…”
The Peanut’s Grammy, who is a speech pathologist, is probably picking up the phone right now to tell me how encouraging my child to mispronounce things is a terrible way to go. I know, I know, MOM. It’s just, she’ll have the rest of her life to say ‘pumpkin.’ Can’t I have ‘punkit’ for a little while longer?
It’s okay. We still have ‘goldpish’ crackers (or sometimes just ‘pishies’), and our dog’s name is still “Marbin.’ (That ‘v’ sound is a tough one all around – We were looking at some letters the other night and I tried getting her to say “v.” Did not compute).
Some of the Peanut’s quirks aren’t necessarily mispronunciations, as a misapplication of the confusing rules of English. For example, for the longest time we thought the Peanut called all bread products ‘pizza.’ It made some sense: both are flat dough-like objects. For some reason it didn’t click until this past weekend that the Peanut isn’t actually saying ‘pizza.’ She’s saying, “piece a.” As in, “I would like a piece of bread.” She just focused on the wrong part of the question, “Would you like a piece of bread?” Totally rational. It’s just, English: it’s so confusing.
Her older sister used to say, “Amn’t.” If I were to ask, “Ms. B., are you pulling apart every individual page in that PostIt pad/shoving crayons in the VCR/ready to approximate looking clean?” She would answer, “I amn’t!” Totally correct, and yet so lovably wrong. It made me chuckle every time. It made me inclined to forgive the destroyed PostIt pad/crayons in the VCR/dirty face.
I tried to hold on to ‘amn’t,’ too. Although it eventually went away after a month or so, just another memory of the flash of time that was Ms. B’s early childhood. And I know the Peanut’s will be the same. But in the meantime, I’m going to enjoy every “baff-time,’ smell every ‘fwower,’ and tuck her in at night with her ‘bankie.’