The F Bomb?

 

My daughter is officially at the age where her language development is sky rocketing. The confusing gibberish that she uses regularly is beginning to transform into somewhat discernible words. Most of the words that she can say clearly are on the basic “first words,” list, like, ball, mama, dada, shoes, socks and so on. Some of the words she attempts to say are still slightly unintelligible, but we are able to understand her thanks to the bits of sign language we taught her early on. 

Everyday, we are more and more impressed as our child’s vocabulary expands, adding a new word or two daily. It’s getting hard to keep up. As much as I love this stage, I know it means that she is growing much faster than I am prepared for. Brett and I both love the fact that we can hold a conversation with her now, though usually the conversation is an adorable mix of babbling and connected words. Cora is also very animated when she speaks, using hand gestures and facial expressions to get her point across. 

A few of her most recent words that have been added to the list are fork, frog, and shirt. Lately, she has been using these words a lot. If she goes into the kitchen she says “mama fork.” When getting dressed she says “mama shirt.” Your very basic two word sentences and, as her parents, Brett and I feel she is very easy to understand.... Until today! 

Usually, when I have a few things to get done around the house that isn’t safe enough for Cora to be with me and help, I keep her in the living room with a baby gate up.  She happily plays with her toys or stuffed animals while I do what I need to do. So here I am, in the bathroom, separating laundry to get it ready to wash and I heard my daughter yelling, and I mean yelling. At first, I let it go because occasionally she yells, screams, and giggles while she is playing and it didn’t sound like anything out of the ordinary. Or so I thought. 

She is still yelling, only now she is repeating herself over and over again. So, I stop what I’m doing and I head towards her. I furrow my brows in confusion, um, what are you saying? It sounded like she was saying a little four letter word, a word that sometimes slips out of your mouth when you accidentally stub your toe on the table leg. Ya, THAT word. My eyes widen and my hand clasps over my mouth, I was mortified. I thought to myself, OH MY GOSH, there is no way I’m going to get a 20 month old to stop saying THAT word. I think if she ever said it in public I would blame it on daycare. Ya, that would work, let’s blame it on the completely non existent daycare because I’m a stay at home mom, sounds about right. 

I squat down next to her, my head hanging low and my hands holding her little hands. I ask her, “Cora, what did you say?” She reaches her hand out, it seems like she is moving in slow motion, like I’m watching Keanu Reeves avoiding bullets in the Matrix. I can’t handle the anticipation, spit it out child! She points, and I look at what she’s pointing to.. My baby girl wanted her frog! My heart leapt and I let out a sigh of relief. Thank God! With much delight, I handed Cora her frog and went back to work while that moment kept replaying in my head. It’s a good reminder to really consider what Brett and I say around our sweet little angel.