The Munchkin Files

Today at lunch, HB and I made the mistake of having a philosophical discussion in front of M1.  Specifically, it was a debate between the merits of teetotalism versus moderate and occasional social drinking in Christian society.  Given that HB grew up in the Bible Belt and I grew up in Wisconsin: Land of Beer and Cheese, it is perhaps surprising that we meet in the middle so well on this topic.

But that's beside the point.  What is the point is that we hadn't realized that our conversation should have been censored in front of the Munchkins.  At least, we didn't realize it until M1 started babbling happily into his milk:

"Number three is tying one cutting board.
Number four is drinking alcohol.
Number five is drinking alcohol.
Number nine is talking alcohol.
Number ten is talking alcohol."

Now there's a counting chant that will never show up on Sesame Street.

What's worse is that he is enunciating it extremely well.  We may be in trouble after Sunday School this weekend.

(By the way, I have no idea how he constructed "number three is tying one cutting board."  Other than I'd never heard the euphemism "tying one on" before and I'd asked HB to explain it's etymology.  That's just going to have to be a mystery.)

It all started a little over a month ago.  After much coaching, HB got M1 to come into the bedroom on Mother's Day and actually say, "Happy Mother's Day!"  (Actually, he said "Tell Mommy Happy Mother's Day," but I'll take what I can get).  We couldn't get it to work as well when he greeted his Nana later that day, though.


About two weeks later, it was my father-in-law's birthday.  He and my mother-in-law dropped by the house to pick up his birthday present, and HB prompted M1 to give the proper birthday greeting, just like he'd been coaching him all morning.

M1, wearing a big delighted smile, came up the stairs from the den and cried, "Happy Mother's Day, Papa!"

So I suppose it was inevitable that yesterday as we were driving over to the in-laws' house for a Father's Day meal that when we asked him, "And what are you going to tell Papa when you see him?" that M1's first response was, "Happy Birthday!"

We also got M1 to draw his Papa a Father's Day card.  He decide to draw a picture of his Papa, which was basically a bunch of scribbles that M1 would verbally label as "Papa's whiskers," "Papa's ears," "Papa's face," "Papa's beard," etc.

This sounds pretty normal, except I don't think M1 has ever encountered the term "whiskers" as a synonym for "men's facial hair."  He's only ever used it to describe a cat's facial features before...

Last night, M1 and I were discussing his dinner plate.  For the first time, he was showing an interest in the dinosaur pictures printed on it.  Sadly, he started out by calling them "doggies."  Then "horsies."  We didn't get that straightened out until I gave him a helpful sound effect to go with the word "dinosaurs."

After the fun of shouting, "Dinosaurs say 'RAWR!'" at each other wore off, M1 looked around and pointed at the milk label.  "That's a Dillons" he said.

Surprised that he would recognize the store's logo (I don't think he's ever discussed the stores we shop at by name before), I encouraged him.  "That's right!" I said brightly.

"Dillons say 'rawr'" he pronounced next.

?

"Noooo," I said slowly. "I don't think Dillons says 'rawr.'"

He thought about this for a moment, and then cried, "Dillons say 'Chicken! Chicken! Chicken!'"

...

There are times when I just have no explanation for my son.  This is one of those times.