Tower of babe-l
First off, sorry for the lateness of this post, dear readers. The Silver Fox had a death in the family late last week that necessitated an impromptu family road trip which left us all exhausted and not a lot of time for the crafting of blog entries.
If this one is sub-par then my apologies. Just know that I have paid my penance for this grievous crime ahead of time by being projectile vomited on twice in quick succession in the car, not far from the Kaikoura seal colony. This, amongst many sufferings, may have left me a little bereft artistically, if not spiritually.
Anyway, today I wanted to talk about the other stuff that occasionally bursts forth from my son's gob. That is regurgitation of the verbal kind.
I've long had an interest in language. In fact, I have an Honours degree with a major in Linguistics. It hasn't been terrifically useful, unless you count peppering dinner party conversation with language-related facts, and I'm technically still paying for it (oh, student loan, how you hang about my neck like an overeducated albatross). So as you can imagine, watching a small human acquiring a language for the first time is quite interesting to me. That little brain listening and watching and learning and occasionally trying to make sounds of its own is like the most engaging of language labs.
Of course, at seven months old my son, who I shall now be referring to as The Master*, doesn't really talk. For several months he's been making a series of burbles and other sounds that sometimes sound like he really is saying things. It's a bit like that time that my 4th form music teacher played "another one bites the dust" backwards to us in class and all it sounded like was weirdness until he said that you could clearly hear "it's fun to smoke marijuana" in the backwards lyrics and then magically we could all pick out those words. Which tells me there's nothing so predictable as a suggestive mind, and also that Mr Williams might have had some "recreational" something going on at the weekend.
Yes, baby noises are verily a Rorschach test for the ears. What you think you hear the baby say says as much about your own interests and predilections as it does about the increasing verbal ability of your young sproglet.
As a for instance, the SF has been convinced over the last few months that the baby is a Democrat due to his constantly saying the name of former presidential hopeful cum ecowarrior, Al Gore. Were we a more right leaning household I can only imagine he'd be accused of speaking the name "Dick Cheney"... or worse.
But anyway, I've been jotting down the words and phrases that we think we hear the baby uttering and I think the list does reflect our general outlook on life.
So by the looks of things, the SF and I are a little bit cultured but also a bit obsessed with Game of Thrones. This seems an accurate assessment to me.
I wonder what your baby's spurious vocabulary might say about you? Even if you don't have a baby it might be fun to guess what you'd "imagine" them to be saying.
*I have chosen this for the following reasons - a) this is technically his correct title, b) it makes him sound like a Dr Who villian, and c) I am essentially his slave