GAYS MILLS - Listening to Thatcher push out sentences really makes me wish I could remember what it was like to be learning my native tongue at what feels like the speed of light.
As someone who does a lot of talking, I know that I take for granted the ability to jabber on endlessly, knowing exactly what I want to say next, too often saying it without much forethought.
He has went from making squeals and coos to saying Mah mah mah, and one of his first official identifying phrases “buck bucks” to now, casually walking up and introducing himself to our rooster (“Hell-LOW Wooster, I’m Thatchy!”) before chasing him around the yard with his corn popper toy.
His topics for conversation are admittedly much more enjoyable now as well, compared to the previous screaming from him with my answering “What do you want!? What can I do for you? I wish you could just tell me!” or simply cooing back and forth at each other.
It’s without a doubt that the ability to yammer on has alleviated a lot of frustration for him, as well as now he can also tell us exactly what he wants to do.
One of the more entertaining things for us has been that he can express his knowledge of the working world; like the fact that when you’re a rural kid, you have to wait for when you “go to town” to get the real good stuff.
“Mama, need to go to Verr-row-Q-Wah for ice preen and juice mama, ice preen and juice! Nice nice nice!”
He can also tell on his grandparents who do their duty of spoiling the little rascal with sweets.
“Me had many popsicles at Papas house. Purple one, blue one, YELL-OH one, many popsicles mama. Me go to papas NOW for popsicles!” or the ever popular “NEED to go see my Markie and Janney at Green HALLOW CAB-innnn for Janney Ice Preen! YUM YUM!”
Sometimes his topics are just too sweet, unexpected and there right when you need them. “Baby right here Honey, It’s okay honey, its okay…”
Although he is your usual reckless toddler, it does seem as though some of his over cautious mother has sunk into him as well.
This weekend, we were enjoying the sunshine and getting some early fall chores out of the way. This included moving the woodpile from where Chasca chucks it out of his truck to where it needs to be stacked on the other end of the driveway.
The work involves the need for our ancient Simplicity lawnmower to be hooked up to our ancient garden trailer. Always efficient, Chasca decided he would mow the strips of lawn as he hauled the trailers of wood back and forth.
This operation caused Thatcher to immediately abandon his previous task of worm hunting, which was perhaps for the best because the worm he had found and named ‘Baby Dah Dah,’ a feeble red worm, was looking rather limp after Thatcher decided to ‘brush his hair’ with the grill brush.
As Chasca crested the top of the driveway approaching the woodpile we were standing adjacent to, Thatcher took a position of authority and shouted “LOOK OUT! DAH DAHS COMIN’ GET OUT OF THE WAAAAAY! GO MAMA GO!” as he grabbed my pinky finger and drug me far, far away from the caterpillar paced 100-year-old lawn tractor, menacing its way toward us.
It was reassuring to know that he actually listens sometimes to the important stuff I say and will repeat it back, instead of only listening to his dad say “these French fries are fresh and salty!” and repeating “Fresh and salty mama!!” For an hour our so…
His caution wore off once the machine puttered to a stop, and he himself became the menacing lawn monster, chasing the chickens yelling, “I’m a BIG HUNGRY T-REX HUNG-ARYYY FOR CHICCCCKKKEEENNN!!!!!!”
I should get out more and observe little kids who grow in up in larger urban areas. It makes me wonder what they must talk to their parents about if its not the goings on of the chickens, the coon hound, worms or the lawn tractor.
One thing of which I am fairly certain is that there is a high probability that most parents of two year olds spend a large amount of time discussing the finer points of appropriate places to growl at people when you’re feeling like a “big hungry T-Rex.”