Friday, August 19, 2011

Sh*@ my kids say (that I don't correct)

"That's willy shawsome," says JT.  He meant to say really awesome of course.  

And of course I find it really adorable.  I can't help it.  

JT, now 5, didn't say much of anything before he was 3.  He has been in speech therapy for 3 years and recently "graduated" out of the free services.  Yes, even though he can't say his Rs, Ss and some other sounds, he has graduated.  Supposedly "we" don't worry about those sounds until 4th grade.

Okay, so for now it melts my heart.  Here is this kid who can kick a teenager's ass playing Wii and isn't afraid to play baseball against giant 8-year-olds, but he can't say some simple words.  He is still such a little boy.

I do worry about kindergarten in a couple of weeks.  The Brady Bunch episode with the boy that teased poor, sweet Cindy about her lisp has replayed in my head a lot.

It may not be so cute then.  

Just like how I let my oldest say words wrong because they were cute, until I was afraid he would be made fun of.  He didn't have delayed speech he just said a few words wrong like all kids do.  Gatoregg was the one he said up until last year, but I finally pulled him aside and told him the correct way to say it.  The kids on the baseball team were looking at him like he was nuts, I had to do something.

Lucy has said pupcakes instead of cupcakes forever.  We have all tried to tell her the correct way to say it and her reply is "that may be what you call them, but I call them pupcakes." 
But I have other things to worry about.

Like my immaturity in dealing with words describing body parts.  This all happened because of a misunderstanding, not any speech issue or cute coming of age thing.  No this is all on me, literally.

I am built like a chubby boy, yes, that means I have a big gut and no well, um, ...I can't even type the correct words, let's say no chest.  So when I have been pregnant and my, er, chest changes in size, my children have been astonished.  When Lucy was 2 and I was pregnant and dancing in the kitchen, shimmying to be exact, Lucy said, "Oh my, Mommy, look at your shimmies."  Her mouth open to the floor she couldn't believe the size of my shimmies.  I laughed and didn't think twice about it.  

Over the years, somehow she changed the word to shivvies.  And guess who doesn't correct her.  The other day she said "My bathing suit came down and showed my shivvie."  Oh, don't judge me yet, there is more.  She calls her other part her china.  Yup, that's right.  And guess who doesn't correct her.

I get nervous and can't make eye contact with the kids.  And then I say "privates are private let's not talk about them."  That is not right, I know.  And I also know that I will need to get better about talking about this.  In fourth grade, when the old sex ed is taught at school I am sure Lucy will be the one raising her hand and say "you may call it that, but I call it a china."

It may not be so cute then.

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