The munchkin's linguistic repertoire is expanding. Toddler brains acquire language so darn fast you can almost smell their curly little hairs burning. Last week Miss Noodle became really good at pointing at the right part of a face if you said "nose," or "hair," or "mouth". And this week, as if by magic, she can point at "Mommy's mouth" or "Daddy's nose" or "Noodle's ears".
People are always interested to know what their first words were. It indicates their earliest priorities. According to my parents, after the obligatory "Mommy" and "Daddy," mine were "read" and "cheese," which is pretty much the story of my life.
I guess Miss Noodle already understands a hundred words (okay, Google says 50 but I think it's more), but the first ones she has spoken are: Mommy, Daddy, this (and das), I see! (which she uses as one word), no (and nein), dog, hi, bye-bye, yes (and ja), up, down, apple (pronounced appie), done, and mine (and meine). There are a bunch of other sounds she says regularly but that are such terrible (and wonderful) mispronunciations that they can't really be counted, e.g. "ahm" for food, "bang" for blanket, "buh" for book, or "nananananana" for banana. Or "sgut," which we think is "ist gut" and "kois," which we're pretty sure is her sweetly Yiddish way of saying "of course".
Yesterday she even tried to say "Nackerbatzl" when I was getting her ready for a bath. "Nackiba," she said. Nackerbatzl is German for a naked person, and it's one of those things that's part of the vocabulary we use exclusively when interacting with kids.
By the way, have you noticed how many words and expressions we have like that? We expend all this energy teaching children to say things that they will not ever use as grownups.
You do not believe me? I can prove it. Cock-a-doodle-doo. What right-minded adult describes the crow of a rooster as a cockadoodledoo? Man chickens do not "say" "cockadoodledoo". Maybe, like, a "a-ooo-oo-ooooo." But if you have every heard a cock say "cock" or "doodle" I'd like to know about it. Video, please.
"Oh dude, I'm exhausted. I was roused at 5 a.m. this morning by a loud cockadoodledoo," said no one, ever. I urge you to recall a single time that you have used the word "cockadoodledoo" in adult conversation. So why do we teach it to children? Is it just to hear their adorable, muppet-like voices saying "cockadoodledoo"? Probably.
But anyway. That is not the point of this blog post. The point of this blog post is this: One word that Miss Noodle can say VERY clearly, and which is a clear indication of her priorities, is "cookie."
She knows where we keep cookies. Mid-play they will occur to her, and she will rise to her feet and walk across the entire apartment with her finger pointed toward Mecca and her face pointed toward the nearest adult, all the way invoking the name of cookies. Often I then say something along the lines of, "You already had a cookie today and if you eat any more cookies this week you will turn into a cookie and I will hate myself for being the kind of crappy mother who buys their child's temporary affection by giving them what they ask for i.e. more cookies. No cookies."
But the Noodle is still coming to grips with the fact that even though she can clearly state what she wants, she may not get it. After all, when you're a baby the entire problem is that you can't tell your adults whether you are thirsty or too hot or need a clean diaper. Suddenly you can express your wishes, and the grownups turn out to be giant jerks. The only solution, then, is to drop to the floor like a sack of potatoes, possibly causing lasting damage to the old noggin, stomp your feet, flail your arms and scream.
Noodle can throw a killer tantrum. It's one of her new skills. But she is very sweet and won't pitch a fit until she is sure that her mother is the asshole. After all, she doesn't speak very well, and it may be that I am simply not understanding what she really wants.
"Coo-KIE?"
"No more cookies, Noodle."
"COO-kie."
"No more."
"Cokie."
"No."
"Cokay?"
"Still no."
"Coogie. Cogie. Cakey. Cokey. CooKAI. Kaikai."
"Noodle. I already told you, love. No. More. Cookies."
"WAAAAAH!"
I tell you though. It is hard to deny this kid a cookie. She may be a 16 month-old with but four teeth, but she loves a crisp cookie snack. They make her inordinately happy. As you can see here, in this video that I (AGAIN! Koisses!) filmed vertically in the heat of the moment.
May all our weekends be filled with cookies.
 |
| Before there were cookies. |
I guess Miss Noodle already understands a hundred words (okay, Google says 50 but I think it's more), but the first ones she has spoken are: Mommy, Daddy, this (and das), I see! (which she uses as one word), no (and nein), dog, hi, bye-bye, yes (and ja), up, down, apple (pronounced appie), done, and mine (and meine). There are a bunch of other sounds she says regularly but that are such terrible (and wonderful) mispronunciations that they can't really be counted, e.g. "ahm" for food, "bang" for blanket, "buh" for book, or "nananananana" for banana. Or "sgut," which we think is "ist gut" and "kois," which we're pretty sure is her sweetly Yiddish way of saying "of course".
 |
| Before there were teeth there were macaroons |
By the way, have you noticed how many words and expressions we have like that? We expend all this energy teaching children to say things that they will not ever use as grownups.
You do not believe me? I can prove it. Cock-a-doodle-doo. What right-minded adult describes the crow of a rooster as a cockadoodledoo? Man chickens do not "say" "cockadoodledoo". Maybe, like, a "a-ooo-oo-ooooo." But if you have every heard a cock say "cock" or "doodle" I'd like to know about it. Video, please.
 |
| "Cock-a-doodle-doo" |
But anyway. That is not the point of this blog post. The point of this blog post is this: One word that Miss Noodle can say VERY clearly, and which is a clear indication of her priorities, is "cookie."
She knows where we keep cookies. Mid-play they will occur to her, and she will rise to her feet and walk across the entire apartment with her finger pointed toward Mecca and her face pointed toward the nearest adult, all the way invoking the name of cookies. Often I then say something along the lines of, "You already had a cookie today and if you eat any more cookies this week you will turn into a cookie and I will hate myself for being the kind of crappy mother who buys their child's temporary affection by giving them what they ask for i.e. more cookies. No cookies."
But the Noodle is still coming to grips with the fact that even though she can clearly state what she wants, she may not get it. After all, when you're a baby the entire problem is that you can't tell your adults whether you are thirsty or too hot or need a clean diaper. Suddenly you can express your wishes, and the grownups turn out to be giant jerks. The only solution, then, is to drop to the floor like a sack of potatoes, possibly causing lasting damage to the old noggin, stomp your feet, flail your arms and scream.
Noodle can throw a killer tantrum. It's one of her new skills. But she is very sweet and won't pitch a fit until she is sure that her mother is the asshole. After all, she doesn't speak very well, and it may be that I am simply not understanding what she really wants.
"Coo-KIE?"
"No more cookies, Noodle."
"COO-kie."
"No more."
"Cokie."
"No."
"Cokay?"
"Still no."
"Coogie. Cogie. Cakey. Cokey. CooKAI. Kaikai."
"Noodle. I already told you, love. No. More. Cookies."
"WAAAAAH!"
I tell you though. It is hard to deny this kid a cookie. She may be a 16 month-old with but four teeth, but she loves a crisp cookie snack. They make her inordinately happy. As you can see here, in this video that I (AGAIN! Koisses!) filmed vertically in the heat of the moment.
May all our weekends be filled with cookies.
