babbling brook

We’ve reached the age where words are streaming from Benjamin’s mouth like water from a faucet. Now, the water is a little cloudy, and sometimes difficult to digest, but it is indeed water – I think – and it’s starting to run onto the floor.

Having Benjamin glued to your side all day - not my side of course, but my wife’s- has its own drawbacks, not the least of which means that you now have to watch your mouth around the little megaphone who is ready and waiting to transmit your every breath to the entire world – over, and over, and over again. As if tripping you at every turn, pulling on your pants (sometimes until they hang off your butt like you’re trying to impress your neighbor‘s 16-year old kid), and generally being a mild annoyance aren’t enough reasons to wish your toddler could just sit down, goddammit, and read a book or something, now you have to worry if he’s going to actually repeat the four-letter abomination that slipped past your lips after you dropped the steaming hot soup ladle on your foot.

And of course we try to cover-up these obscenities. Like when you let one out and you try to disguise it with a suffix or another phrase: “Oh shit! I mean. . . uh. . . Look at the ship, Benjamin! The rocket ship!”

Or: “Mother-f***er! I. . . uh. . . meant to say. . . ah. . . Mother. . . uh. . . Fumble. . booblestein! Yeah, yeah, Fumble. . . boob. . .le. . . yeah.”

It never works.

But I don’t think Anna is finding this quite as difficult as I am. She’s never really been able to swear worth a darn in her life. Myself, however. . . well, damn, I can’t even write a blog about my darling little infant son without letting two or three blunders sneak out onto the screen. Anna must have politely reminded me to “dude, watch your mouth” at least seventeen times during dinner yesterday, and I wasn’t even in a bad mood! Luckily Ben was more consumed with the cold pizza in his hands then the ramblings of his father, which, unfortunately, I don’t see as being a trend that will discontinue any time soon.

But yes, the words my son speak are nothing short of amazing for us, considering we have been patiently awaiting this event the whole of Ben’s natural life. He always seems to be trying to tell us something, getting incredibly frustrated in the process, and now for the first time we can actually understand him. Sort of. Usually we have to tell our visitors what he is actually babbling, because they haven’t been around him enough to understand that “deece” means “please” and “da-do-do” means “W”. But we know.

And we are proud to say that he can visually and verbally identify all of his basic shapes: gi-ga-ga (triangle), skae (square), ka-kle (circle), as well as the following letters: E, H, M, O, W, and X.

You may note that the few letters that Ben can visually identify almost spell out the name, ELMO, who very well may be Ben’s personal idol. If Ben could have a sit-down with Elmo and Cookie Monster, I think he might mistake it for heaven, save for the fact that Cookie Monster would be eating all of Ben’s beloved crackers.

Watch out, Cookie - I would hate to have to glue back on your nose after Ben yanks it off. . .