Well, folks, the day has arrived. Em has transformed from a person to a parrot, a toddler-voiced echo that follows C and I around the house. Many of our conversations go like this:
“Emmy, it’s time for you to brush your teeth,” says I.
“Bruthh your TEETH!” says Em.
“Make sure to go up and down with the toothbrush, ok?” says I.
“Up and down. Up and down!” says Em. For a few seconds, she actually seems to do something akin to brushing her teeth, before she just starts sucking on her toothbrush again.
“Where are your shoes, Em?” says I.
“Where are shoes? Shooooo-ooooooes. Where ARE you? Shoes hiding” says Em.
“Maybe they are in your room?” says I.
“In your room” says Em, wandering off to HER room to see if she can find her sandals.
And so it continues.
Now, I should say, Em doesn’t ONLY repeat the words we say. She’s definitely got a mind of her own, and lots of words to help her voice her opinions.
Many a times, on our ride home from daycare, she will start a monologue of “wants”, a la “I want water (I give her water)… I want juice (I don’t have any juice, Em. Drink the water)… I want keys (I can’t give you my keys, Em. I need them to drive)… I want apple (I don’t have an apple Em. I’m sorry)… I want pizza (maybe you can have pizza for dinner, when we get home)… I want hug (mama wants to hug you too, Em, but I can’t hug you while I’m driving)”
But it’s Em’s enthusiasm for repeating words that has me scared s*&%less (see, I’m already self-editing). While I’m no potty-mouthed mama, I definitely let the occasional “f-bomb” slip out, or get a little crass when talking to my hubby.
Now I have these immense fears that, if I am not super careful, Em is going to mimic… you know, THOSE words. And if she starts using THOSE words, I’m in deep doo doo.
I envision picking Em up at daycare, and suddenly noticing that all of her teachers are giving me the stink eye. I envision her head teacher taking me aside and explaining that SOME words are inappropriate for 22 month olds to be using, and that it might affect Emmy’s classmates in an adverse way if she continues to say “I want my f^&^ing lunch, please!”
And what about the supermarket? How embarrassing it would be for me if, while strolling my daughter through the produce aisle, with Emmy attracting the smiles and waves of strangers, she loudly proclaims “I love this s%^*!”
Yeah, I’ve definitely got to put the lid on the loose lips, and say farewell to the “f” bombs. From now on, I’ll need to get creative, calling things “blinking horrible” and exclaiming “son of a biscuit” when I stub my toe.
Well, at least I can still swear on my blog.