Nigel's Language is Taking Off...in All Directions
Nigel approaches me as I sit reading, both babies in my lap.
"You know who that is, lovie. You tell me. Who is that?"
"Right! And who is this?" I jounce the baby on my other knee.
Note to self: perhaps use the nickname a little less...
Nigel is reading a book to himself, a constant stream of babble/chatter filling the room.
"Fuck! One fuck! Too fuck!"
Guess which is his very favourite book?
"T-rrrruck, Nigel. Trrrruck." Amusing as this is, I feel obliged now and then to try to guide him to the paths of politically correct enunciation.
"That's right. Truck." Not that I try too, too hard...
Nigel attempts to turn the page, but the book is large and its cover slippery, and it slithers to the floor.
I consider once more donning the mantel of Political Correctness Arbiter, then decide against it. Once is enough for now. After all, his brother was even worse! And he outgrew it. Eventually.
~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P