Y’all, we’ve got a problem. And it sounds a whole lot like the word penis.
My two-year old has an incredibly expansive vocabulary. He’s both articulate and expressive. Long gone are the days when Red and I sat around the house cooing over every little monosyllable he uttered. Now we just want some damned peace and quiet every once in a while. And sadly, he seems to have inherited some of his mother’s OCD tendencies, because if I should (God forbid) point to a picture of a rooster and call it a chicken, he loses his everloving mind.
“NO!” he’ll insist. “Mama, that’s a ROOSTER. Roosters say cockadoo-doo.”
That diatribe is always accompanied by a look that clearly says get your shit together, woman. I’m not an imbecile.
He’s also amazingly adept at imitating all manner of sounds like some kind genetically enhanced myna bird. We found this out the hard way when he, ahem, started making noises that sounded a whole lot like a certain nocturnal activity pursued when a mommy and daddy really, really love each other. He demonstrated his new-found skill while I was on the phone with my mother.
I don’t have to tell you how much fun that little adventure was.
Despite having an advanced command of the English language (and some Español thanks to Dora the Explorer and her band of Mariachi Vermin), what comes out of his mouth doesn’t always match up to what’s going on in his head. And that, friends, leads to some awkward moments when other people aren’t familiar with the drunk-speak that is toddler vernacular.
Earlier today, we were watching the first Madagascar movie because a)it was the only kid friendly movie on TV at the time, and b)I’m a huge fan of the movie’s band of homicidal penguins because OMG SHENANIGANS. Boo must have picked up my particular brand of fangirl love for these flightless little murderers, because now he’s all, “I love the penis!”
Yeah. He loves the penis.
I know he’s trying to say penguins, but imagine what would happen if we were at a restaurant trying to enjoy a nice meal I didn’t have to cook and Boo told our low-rent Robert Pattinson sparkle vamp wannabe waiter about his love of the penis just as our queso slid across the table.
Awkwaaaaard.
And to think, he’s only two. He’s still got sixteen years to embarrass us before we no longer have to claim responsibility for him. We’re screwed.
Edited to add: Can you imagine what kind of search engine traffic this post will generate? Mom+loves+penis? It’s like I’ve put out a permanent welcome welcome mat for teh KRAZEES.
Three Ring Mom 
Ha ha! Can’t wait til we get to that stage. On second thought, happy in the idyl of an innocent infant of 14 months. Her vocabulary is astounding, that’s why I liked this post. And yes! Like a “genetically enhanced myna bird”! You got that right. Looking forward to reading more of your posts!
Hilarious! When my son was that age he almost got kicked out of pre-school because at lunch he always said he wanted “a Fu*k”. They only gave out spoons and he wanted a fork.
I love how honest you are on your blog. Keep it up!
Please, please post any weird search terms you get! I get so few off my blog*, I delight in reading others’!
(The only weird ones I get are a friend of mine messing with me. Every time I get a weird one, I email him and go, “That was you, wasn’t it?” So far, the answer’s always been, “Who else?!”)
so hilarious, but i doubt he’ll embarrass you for another 16 years because when he’s like 15 he won’t want you to embarrass him. this kind of reminds me of when i was learning english and my swimming goggles got fuc*ked (fogged) up
Lord! Dictator once asked to watch The Princess and the Fuck. She couldn’t understand why Mama was crying and laughing at the same time.
I’m going to miss it when she doesn’t require a translator anymore.
When my daughter was two she kept telling anyone who would listen, “I love cunt fun cunt.” It took me several weeks to realize she was talking about Count Von Count on Sesame street.
A friend hosted a bridge party for her religiously conservative mother-in-law’s bridge club. After a few hands of cards, they sat down at the formal dining room table to eat their ladies’ lunch. My friend’s four-year-old daughter offered to “give thanks” but when she faced the table of women with bowed heads she went blank. Her grandmother looked at her and said, “Honey, it starts ‘God…'”
My friends little girl’s eyes sparkled because she remembered what came next. With her hands in prayer position and her head bow, she said, “God dammit. Amen.”
Too funny. I’ll always remember the story my mom told me about my aunt singing the KFC jingle “I want some f***in fried chicken toooooonight!”