Veteran’s Day…There is so much to think about today. So many men and women who have served in the name of freedom, and so many who have made the ultimate sacrifice. My thoughts are fleeting, though, because it is a school holiday as well, and the house is full of the noise of youthful momentum and boundless energy trapped indoors by the snowy weather. I’m afraid today will hold no deep contemplation as a result, just a little light-hearted typing of some things I want to always remember. Right now, the energetic sounds are happy ones, there is peace among the people! I love to listen to my children talking to each other when they are getting along. I just love listening to my children talk.
My oldest daughter, Caroline, had the funniest way of saying words when she was younger. She called her uncle Patrick, “Paku”(pah-coo). Cheerios were “charros” (cha-row). Freckles were “prickles.” She is so direct, too. When she was four years old, I told her she had a sign right under her arm that said tickle me, and she replied, “Mommy, the sign says no!” She would also inform/warn anyone who would listen, “Four year olds talk a lot!” (I have no idea where she heard that) She called Martha Claire, “Marfa”, when she was born, which evolved into “Marfy.” We all have to use that name still , because, well, Martha is so Marfy.
At the time of her birth, Martha Claire not only brought new meaning to the word sassy, but she also introduced a whole new word to the English language, courtesy of the impeded tongue of her darling older sister. We could all only hope to be a little Marfy sometimes – social butterfly, fashionista, hug lover, smart quipper, renowned wrestler (as attested to by her younger brother’s bloody nose last week) and wearer of her loving heart on her sleeve. Marfy’s special language is not in the pronunciation, it’s the thoughtful way she phrases everything just a little differently than anyone else would. Prime example would be my last post, “Mommy, were you in college when you found Richard to be your man?” When she was three years old she asked, “Mommy, when is my birfday?” I told her it was still many months away, and she asked, “Can we drive there?” Oh, honey, if we could then mommy’s birthday car would be in reverse!!
And now, we have a little Tucker man who has introduced his own style into our household language. My new favorite word is “skuck.” It is also known to mean “stuck, lodged, can’t get it out no matter how hard I try, so please help, Mommy, please.” i.e. – My car is skuck in the crack between the car seats. The refrigerator door is skuck and won’t open. Fruit snacks are skuck between my teeth, see, “aaaahhh”. I also must confess one of my closet favorite words. The boy will not call his posterior normal words like bottom, fanny, tush, rear. Nope, it’s his booty. No telling, he’s probably already used the word booty with his Sunday School teacher, so I might as well set the truth free here. I have no idea where he learned it, but one of my miscreant friends (Kea, you know who you are) even taught him the words to Shake Your Booty via my answering machine after I confided in her about my son’s bad habit. At this point, we’ve just accepted it. Our two year old son has a booty. Now you know. As for me, I’m just skuck on these precious, noisy, oh-so-talkative little gifts and the privilege of being trapped with them for an 0h-so-fleeting moment. With that in mind, I’ve got some listenin’ to do…