Which is often long before you realise they know what’s
going on.
You’re lured into a false sense of security, thinking
that you can continue to talk frankly in front of them, and then suddenly they start
parroting you, or asking for something you didn’t realise they knew the word
for.
I was a bit perturbed when pushing Nancy in her pram
round to the childminders the other day.
One of the wheels went over a dog
turd, and without thinking, I muttered, ‘shit’,
only to be met with a little voice singing back, ‘shit, shit, shit,’ at me for
the rest of the 10-minute journey.
I think I just about got away with it,
talking about her ‘seat’ a lot, but still. No swearing now. Even if it is under
my breath.
But Nancy is now picking up words when she’s not with us.
Or remembering things we’ve mentioned once and possibly forgotten about.
She was looking at a picture of a rabbit the other day,
and said ‘banana’, to which I corrected her, only for her to insist, ‘no, banana’,
and then I looked again, and she was right. The rabbit was carrying a banana.
As she pushed her bowl away half way through her breakfast
the other morning, Ben asked, ‘finished?’
‘Finished,’ she replied.
‘All done?’ he asked.
‘All done,’ Nancy answered.
And as Ben faltered, Nancy said, ‘bye bye porridge,’ in
case there was any doubt as to whether she wanted any more.
So, when we took Nancy to a friend’s Easter egg hunt the
other morning, we were aware that she hasn’t really had much opportunity to eat
chocolate.
And given that she sucks her mouth in when you try and brush her teeth so you end up brushing her lips, we’d prefer it to stay that way for the time being.
The hunt began and she trundled off with the sea of other
screaming, excited children, clutching a little plastic bowl to fill with any
sparkly objects she found. And given that she sucks her mouth in when you try and brush her teeth so you end up brushing her lips, we’d prefer it to stay that way for the time being.
‘Chicken!’ she joyfully shouted when finding a hen shaped
chocolate.
‘Egg!’ ‘Bunny!’
And they all went into the bowl.
As we regrouped with the other parents, all the other
children were eating their findings, so we unwrapped a little egg.
Nancy’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as she gnawed at
it.
You could see her wondering why hadn’t she had anything
like this before.
Where had, in a short life of porridge, rice cakes and raisins,
we been hiding this brilliant tasting thing.
With it wedged in her cheeks, Nancy urgently smacked the
back of her hand, shouting, ‘more, more, more!’
And we realised. She doesn’t know the word for it. She
doesn’t know what she’s just eaten.
And we haven’t told her.Nancy has had a taste of heaven. But has no idea how to ask for it again.
And, until she opens her mouth and let's us brush her
teeth, that’s the way it’s going to stay.