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So Little Man is just getting more and more frustrated with me. I clearly do not understand what he is clearly saying. I know that it has something to do with the kitchen. I am not a complete idiot.
“CORNCH!” he demands again. I am clueless as to what “cornch” is. He knows how to say “corn” and has on many occasions, so it cannot be that… Recently he has started naming things on his own, and leaving me (with my flagging, subpar mental faculties) and Wifey (with her amazingly acute superbly attuned cognative capabilities {she figures this crap out more often than not}) to “smurf” out what the hell he is talking about.
For instance, about 3 weeks ago I was driving by a local Borders Books & Music store and Little Man goes absolutely apeshit yelling “A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B!” I am driving through an intersection trying to figure out what the heck “A-B” is. I had no particular place to be and ample time to get there, this has now become a science experiment. I turned the car around at the next parking lot and started down the road in the opposite direction. Again, we get to the intersection and he starts yelling “A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B!” But this time he points to Borders. Aha, he is interested in going to the book store. I am no dummy. No really. Stop laughing. Anyway… A-B is on the… ummm Borders is on the left and I am in the right hand lane, so I have to turn right. Little Man does not like the right turn. He does not like it one bit. He starts crying, sobbing, wailing even “A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B!” and trying to point over his shoulder at Borders. I try to reassure the boy that we are in fact going to go to A-B, err… Borders. I turn around and go through the intersection one more time. This time to delighted cries of “A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B!”
Oddly enough, Wifey and I can only think of 2 times that we have been to Borders with Little Man. Somehow, on his own he has made the connection between the A,B,C’s and books and this particular store he has only been in twice (one time we were still porting his immobile butt around). We get into the store and he makes a bee-line for the Kids book section of which he has been in once. Ever. We asked Wifey’s mom if she had been sneaking him to the bookstore. She hadn’t. We asked Grandma D and Grandpa R if they had been taking him to Borders. They also said “No.” But then they added, “Do you want us too?” In our household, it is now the A-B.
Anyway… We are in the kitchen trying to narrow things down. Is it in the fridge? I open the fridge and let my demanding 2.5 year old at it. He passes over his favorites. He doesn’t want any ketchup. He doesn’t want any pasta. He is even passing on the chili. He never passes on the chili. HE closes the fridge door. Something that I do not believe I have ever seen. What in the Hell is cornch?! And what power do you hold over my child, Cornch! (Yes, I have anthropomorphized it by this point) Why must you vex me so, Cornch?!?
I start asking questions and have to word my questions very carefully since he pretty much only answers with “No” these days.
“Do you want something to drink?”
“NO”
“Do you want something to eat?”
“CORNCH!” He smiles up to me expectantly
“Is it in the fridge?”
“No” He looks at me as if I am a dull witted fool. He is not far off the mark.
“Do I need to cook it for you?”
“Cornch.” I take that as a “yes.”
So I open the freezer to give him choices of things that need preparation. I pick him up soi he can see in the freezer and he moves the Chicken Fingers out of the way so he can get to want he wants. He grabs a bag of frozen corn, and cries triumphantly “CORNCH!”
I guess “Cornch” is not a demon with dominion over my offspring, but the plural for “corn.” It seems Little Man wanted more than a single kernel of corn. He wanted many “corns.”
Still doesn’t explain the whole A-B thing.
To recap:
Cornch is the plural for Corn
This physical exercise crap is for the birds
I am in better shape than I thought
I am, however, going to be very, very sore tomorrow
Spaghetti for dinner tonight
I have meeting this afternoon that I have to go to, that I really don’t need to go to
“A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B!”
“CORNCH!” he demands again. I am clueless as to what “cornch” is. He knows how to say “corn” and has on many occasions, so it cannot be that… Recently he has started naming things on his own, and leaving me (with my flagging, subpar mental faculties) and Wifey (with her amazingly acute superbly attuned cognative capabilities {she figures this crap out more often than not}) to “smurf” out what the hell he is talking about.
For instance, about 3 weeks ago I was driving by a local Borders Books & Music store and Little Man goes absolutely apeshit yelling “A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B!” I am driving through an intersection trying to figure out what the heck “A-B” is. I had no particular place to be and ample time to get there, this has now become a science experiment. I turned the car around at the next parking lot and started down the road in the opposite direction. Again, we get to the intersection and he starts yelling “A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B!” But this time he points to Borders. Aha, he is interested in going to the book store. I am no dummy. No really. Stop laughing. Anyway… A-B is on the… ummm Borders is on the left and I am in the right hand lane, so I have to turn right. Little Man does not like the right turn. He does not like it one bit. He starts crying, sobbing, wailing even “A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B!” and trying to point over his shoulder at Borders. I try to reassure the boy that we are in fact going to go to A-B, err… Borders. I turn around and go through the intersection one more time. This time to delighted cries of “A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B!”
Oddly enough, Wifey and I can only think of 2 times that we have been to Borders with Little Man. Somehow, on his own he has made the connection between the A,B,C’s and books and this particular store he has only been in twice (one time we were still porting his immobile butt around). We get into the store and he makes a bee-line for the Kids book section of which he has been in once. Ever. We asked Wifey’s mom if she had been sneaking him to the bookstore. She hadn’t. We asked Grandma D and Grandpa R if they had been taking him to Borders. They also said “No.” But then they added, “Do you want us too?” In our household, it is now the A-B.
Anyway… We are in the kitchen trying to narrow things down. Is it in the fridge? I open the fridge and let my demanding 2.5 year old at it. He passes over his favorites. He doesn’t want any ketchup. He doesn’t want any pasta. He is even passing on the chili. He never passes on the chili. HE closes the fridge door. Something that I do not believe I have ever seen. What in the Hell is cornch?! And what power do you hold over my child, Cornch! (Yes, I have anthropomorphized it by this point) Why must you vex me so, Cornch?!?
I start asking questions and have to word my questions very carefully since he pretty much only answers with “No” these days.
“Do you want something to drink?”
“NO”
“Do you want something to eat?”
“CORNCH!” He smiles up to me expectantly
“Is it in the fridge?”
“No” He looks at me as if I am a dull witted fool. He is not far off the mark.
“Do I need to cook it for you?”
“Cornch.” I take that as a “yes.”
So I open the freezer to give him choices of things that need preparation. I pick him up soi he can see in the freezer and he moves the Chicken Fingers out of the way so he can get to want he wants. He grabs a bag of frozen corn, and cries triumphantly “CORNCH!”
I guess “Cornch” is not a demon with dominion over my offspring, but the plural for “corn.” It seems Little Man wanted more than a single kernel of corn. He wanted many “corns.”
Still doesn’t explain the whole A-B thing.
To recap:
Cornch is the plural for Corn
This physical exercise crap is for the birds
I am in better shape than I thought
I am, however, going to be very, very sore tomorrow
Spaghetti for dinner tonight
I have meeting this afternoon that I have to go to, that I really don’t need to go to
“A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B! A-B!”
4 Comments:
Nicely deducted!
Don't you wish understanding wives was that simple? :-)
Later!
I'm amazed at their patience and persistence sometimes. You know, those times that they don't go berzerk.
I had a very similar episode. See here:
http://peefershome.com/?p=7
What's worse is when it happens between adults.
J.A.:
Wifey was a therapist. I have to talk to her like a woman using feeling words all the time now. We have a pretty fair understanding of each other now.
Peefer:
beautiful post on the stickers thing. Sometimes Little Man will get exasperated and storm off in search of someone with higher brain function (Wifey)so that he can get his needs met.
I love reading this blog-it reminds me of things I've forgotten with my children.
If you've never read this blog I think you might like it. He goes through similar stories with his little boy. (bookstores and trying to figure out what his son is saying)
http://poopandboogies.blogspot.com/
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