When Wyatt was a toddler, around 18-24 months (give or take), he had his own little language. I know that most kids do, but Wyatt is mine...so therefore, his lanuage was special. :)
I don't remember exactly when we noticed that his babbling was more than that, that he really was talking.
It most likely was when we noticed that he was calling his Grandparents "mooma" and "poopa". Actually, at that time, any old(er) person was classified this way.
He had more words in his little dictionary too:
Deetoe = downstairs
Beetoe = teady bear
Teekoe = truck
I know there were more made up words with thier own meanings, but these were my absolute favorite.
When we realized what these words really were and what they really meant, we (of course) corrected his speech. The funny thing is that as he started to use them less and less the more I noticed that he was growing and changing.
I began to miss the baby that I used to have - even while loving the little boy and young man that he is becoming
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
Shyans New Do
What started as 'no big deal', soon ended in 'what were you thinking?'.
She asked if she could go downstairs (the basement) to play with Shyan (the cat). "Sure", I said.
About 15 minutes later or so, I went down to switch out laundry. Nothing abnormal here, Josie was petting Shyan - all was right with the world.
Then, out of nowhere, she says "Mommy, Shyan was stuck in pokey sharp things and has bruises all over him".
"What?" I asked, not having paid complete attention to her statement.
She repeated...hmm that doesn't seem quite right. While the basement isn't clean and open, it certainly isn't dangerous...and how exactly do you see bruises on a cat????
I called Shyan over looking for bumps (seemed like a reasonable explanation for the "bruises"), I wasn't finding any, but noticed that his fur was all tufted - like he was pet going in the wrong direction.
As I attempted to pet his fur in the correct direction to get it to lie down...something wasn't right. I didn't put my finger on it at first. Then there was a light bulb that was all too bright....
I looked at her and asked "Do you have sissors down here????"
She looks down "yes"
"Did you cut his hair?" My question was answered by the little yellow pieces of hair on the basement floor.
Again looking down "yes"
"Why would you do that?" I honestly could not figure out the answer to this question. But at this point another alarm was going off in my head. DING! DING! DING! She just made up a story and LIED to me. LIED to me... Because up to this point, I was having a genuinenly hard time not laughing at the whole site.
"You just LIED to me???"
Alittle shocked at getting caught... "Yes"
"Why? Why would you do that?" Then as an after thought "go to your room while I decide your punishment" I used to hate that as a kid and it was all I could come up with.
While the act of cutting the cats' hair was odd to say the least - that didn't really bother me... the cat looks a tad funny, but apparently didn't mind the attention and thankfully she was using blunt tipped sissors.
The lieing about it is what through me for a complete loop, the cover-up....
In case you are wondering, she was sufficiently punished... but we won't go into that here.
She asked if she could go downstairs (the basement) to play with Shyan (the cat). "Sure", I said.
About 15 minutes later or so, I went down to switch out laundry. Nothing abnormal here, Josie was petting Shyan - all was right with the world.
Then, out of nowhere, she says "Mommy, Shyan was stuck in pokey sharp things and has bruises all over him".
"What?" I asked, not having paid complete attention to her statement.
She repeated...hmm that doesn't seem quite right. While the basement isn't clean and open, it certainly isn't dangerous...and how exactly do you see bruises on a cat????
I called Shyan over looking for bumps (seemed like a reasonable explanation for the "bruises"), I wasn't finding any, but noticed that his fur was all tufted - like he was pet going in the wrong direction.
As I attempted to pet his fur in the correct direction to get it to lie down...something wasn't right. I didn't put my finger on it at first. Then there was a light bulb that was all too bright....
I looked at her and asked "Do you have sissors down here????"
She looks down "yes"
"Did you cut his hair?" My question was answered by the little yellow pieces of hair on the basement floor.
Again looking down "yes"
"Why would you do that?" I honestly could not figure out the answer to this question. But at this point another alarm was going off in my head. DING! DING! DING! She just made up a story and LIED to me. LIED to me... Because up to this point, I was having a genuinenly hard time not laughing at the whole site.
"You just LIED to me???"
Alittle shocked at getting caught... "Yes"
"Why? Why would you do that?" Then as an after thought "go to your room while I decide your punishment" I used to hate that as a kid and it was all I could come up with.
While the act of cutting the cats' hair was odd to say the least - that didn't really bother me... the cat looks a tad funny, but apparently didn't mind the attention and thankfully she was using blunt tipped sissors.
The lieing about it is what through me for a complete loop, the cover-up....
In case you are wondering, she was sufficiently punished... but we won't go into that here.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Memories
Every one keeps telling me that I should keep a journal of some sort of the things that the kids do so that as time goes by, I don't forget.
I have decided that they are absolutely correct. I have found that as the kids get older it is harder and harder to remember some of the cute, random, off-the-wall things that they come up with.
For instance, Wyatt had his own vocabulary when he was a toddler...I miss that...even though we are constantly telling him "not to talk like a baby" now. I miss the ramblings of a child learning to talk, learning to express themselves.
Or how Josie used to climb out of her crib at 15 months, making it a necessity to put her in a "big girl bed" at 18 months.
How she used to climb the chain-link fence at 2 and refuse to answer us (or maybe to even hear us) as she busily explored every nook and cranny under neighbors deck - while we frantically looked for her with horrible visions in our heads, tears in our eyes and our hearts in our throats.
I do not want to forget these times.
I don't want to forget the first time Josie told me that she wanted to grow up to be a mommy and me thinking that I must be doing something right.
Or how Wyatt’s love of nature and animals seems almost too consuming.
I know these moments won't last forever...but I want to remember them just the same.
This is my journal and these are my memories.
I have decided that they are absolutely correct. I have found that as the kids get older it is harder and harder to remember some of the cute, random, off-the-wall things that they come up with.
For instance, Wyatt had his own vocabulary when he was a toddler...I miss that...even though we are constantly telling him "not to talk like a baby" now. I miss the ramblings of a child learning to talk, learning to express themselves.
Or how Josie used to climb out of her crib at 15 months, making it a necessity to put her in a "big girl bed" at 18 months.
How she used to climb the chain-link fence at 2 and refuse to answer us (or maybe to even hear us) as she busily explored every nook and cranny under neighbors deck - while we frantically looked for her with horrible visions in our heads, tears in our eyes and our hearts in our throats.
I do not want to forget these times.
I don't want to forget the first time Josie told me that she wanted to grow up to be a mommy and me thinking that I must be doing something right.
Or how Wyatt’s love of nature and animals seems almost too consuming.
I know these moments won't last forever...but I want to remember them just the same.
This is my journal and these are my memories.
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