“Look, a big cock!” and other things my two-year old says

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Presenting, for your amusement, my younger daughter and her mouth:

My daughter loves cocks

My daughter loves to loudly describe the things she sees. This is fine when she sees “a gawage! A red gawage!”, but what she really likes to point out is clocks. Unfortunately her desire to express her chronomentrophilia is not matched by her ability to enunciate the relevant words.

So whenever we are in clock-rich environments, like libraries, train stations or, yesterday, the hospital, what I and everyone else hears is:

“Look, a big cock! Another cock! Two cocks!”

My daughter was a fish-wife in a former life

When she can’t sleep, my daughter plays make-believe with her toys. Her favourite game is “old-timey salesperson”, but all she sells is roller skates. So what I hear from the next room is her yelling from her cot:

“Skates! Skates! Get your skates he-ere!”

My daughter made a deal with the evil sea witch

Two or three times a week, my daughter trades her voice for human legs and requires me to play the part of Prince Eric pretending to meet her for the first time. She tugs at my leg to get my attention and then taps her throat to indicate that she cannot speak. I speak in a man’s voice and an American accent, otherwise my other daughter yells at me to “say it in BOY LANGUAGE!”.

This is our script (from which I am not permitted to deviate):

Eric (me): You can’t speak? Or sing either? Then I guess we haven’t met… I don’t even know your name! Is it…Rachel?

[Ariel shakes her head]

Mildred?

[Ariel shakes her head]

Fiona?

[Ariel shakes her head]

Emily?

[Ariel shakes her head]

Patricia?

[Ariel shakes her head]

Ariel?

Ariel: Yes!

My daughter is a cat

I really don’t know what goes on in that child’s head, but for some reason whenever she talks on the phone, she does so in the manner of a cat.

“Do you want to say hi to Nanna?”

“Yes” [takes phone] “Meooooow! Meooooow! Meooooow!” [puts down phone. Returns to being a human child]

My daughter is a sarcastic little troll

When presented with something new, say a lovingly prepared meal, instead of asking “what is it?” like you or I would, she asks sardonically:

“What’s that supposed to be?”

And that is my two-year old.

 

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