Miss Skye’s speech is improving at a mind-boggling rate — “Silly Skylar farted in bathroom!” she declared tonight (I’ve never been prouder) — and yet her ability to understand me when I speak is not always so extraordinary. Some examples of how things get lost in translation with a two-year-old:
I SAY: Ssshhh. Don’t wake the baby. He’s sleeping.
SKYE HEARS: Immediately run to the bedroom and yell “DREW AWAKE! DREW AWAKE!” in the baby’s face until he is awake.
I SAY: Sit down in your chair, please.
SKYE HEARS: Don’t just stand on your chair — jump up and down on it!
I SAY: Inside voice.
SKYE HEARS: Scream louder, there are some people in Peru who can’t hear you.
I SAY: Don’t touch Mommy’s computer.
SKYE HEARS: Make sure your hands are covered in yogurt before you bang on the keyboard.
I SAY: Gently, please.
SKYE HEARS: Push Drew’s swing hard enough to fly through the window.
I SAY: Pick up those toys you threw on the floor.
SKYE HEARS: You know what would be cool? If you stared straight ahead and totally ignored what I just asked you to do.
I SAY: You probably shouldn’t play with the phone….
SKYE HEARS: Push “redial.”
I SAY: Time for a family hug.
SKYE HEARS: Kiss and hug Drew at least three times, and just leave poor Mom and Dad hanging. (Yeah, hard to get too mad about that one.)
I SAY: Time for a nap!
SKYE HEARS: We are putting you in solitary confinement for the rest of your life.
Originally posted on September 21, 2011