We’ll call it ‘communication’

…for lack of a better term…

“Ah da-graffoo,” Rory comments to Grace. They’re about a foot apart, standing facing each other.

“Yafiwwa,” Grace answers.

“Ga fwu fwu gai,” Rory notes, reaching toward the hairband in Grace’s hand.

“Fai ya oomble.” She pulls the hairband out of his reach.

“Ga fwoo gai ah bahn ya,” he smiles and reaches again.

“A woo bow bow booowoo,” she removes it again, and smiles at him.

“Ooo buh wuh-ooo mmm ahh.” He returns her smile.

Her smile broadens, and she gives him a firm and friendly ‘mission accomplished’ sort of nod. If they were older, she’d have offered a firm handshake, I’m sure.

Well satisfied, they part company, Rory to the kitchen, Grace to the living room.

Creative hearing

“Ah gah-gah go ee gay.”

I’m getting better at deciphering William’s poorly-articulated speech. (He has started speech therapy, so we’re hoping for steady improvement.) I’m getting better — I’m smart, I’m intuitive, I’m creative — but I am not psychic, and sometimes nothing short of mind-reading is going to break the code. This one?

“Ah gah-gah go ee gay.”

A mystery. Neither the context, nor questions, nor observation enabled me to understand that one. (Guess away, if you must; you’ll be wrong.)

Emma (my youngest, 16) chortles. “The fun thing about William’s speech is that you get to decide what you just heard. For me, just then? He said,

‘I’ve got a goat. He’s gay.’ ”

It’ll do.

He says, she says

“Hi!”

“Hello, Noah. How are you this morning?”

“Hi!”

The husband comes downstairs.

“Hi!”

“Hi, there, little guy.”

“Hi!”

Anna is dropped off.

“Hi!”

“Hi, Baby Noah! I got my pink snowpants on because my black ones got all dirty in the park last night. Now I have pink snowpants on, and my boots have pink and black, too. See my pink snowpants, Baby Noah? You have black snowpants llike my other ones, but today I am wearing pink snowpants.”

“Hi!”

The dog wanders by.

“Hi! Dah! Hi! Dah! Dah!”

Emily is dropped off.

“Hi!”

“Hi, Baby Noah. Mary, are we going to do a craft today? I didn’t do a craft yesterday and I got sad last night because I wanted to do a craft, and daddy said to ask if maybe we would do a craft today. Maybe we could use the magazines and the glue sticks again today, so I could make a craft when I didn’t make one the other day?”

Timmy is dropped off.

“Hi!”

“Hi, Baby Noah. Mary, I gots a truck, and I can share it.”

The husband starts to put his boots on.

“Hi! Hi!”

“Hello, Noah.”

“Hi!”

“I did that already, buddy.”

“Remember this stage?” I grin at him.

“Oh, yeah. When you only have three words in your vocabulary, you have to work them hard. Some kids are like that.”

“The b–”

“Whereas the girr-uls,” my sweetie intones, his voice comicly rueful, “they get their words in flurries.”