H’s language is great. Her grasp of everyday english surprises me daily – she’ll hold an absolutely fine conversation with anyone and have plenty to say, so we’re starting to work on words she doesn’t quite get right, teaching her the correct pronounciation while mourning the last weeks of baby-talk.
Recently she will say something which isn’t exactly grammatically correct but does still mean the same thing. I need proper examples and I don’t have them. There’s the four-year old imagination going on which quite frankly is an odd imagination (but one I like), and the one which likes to pick a fight, or just refuse to do anything.
Actually, the refusal to do anything is kind of funny. Earlier today she was about to tidy up her toys, so I offered her 5p for her money-box as it’s a task around the house. “That’s boring!” she replied. Yes, she is now bored with getting pocket-money.
We’ll see how long that one lasts.
We went up to Reigate Fort for a walk and to get some fresh air, where she then point-blank refused to do most things. “Oh, look at the lovely view!” we’d say, and she’d turn, face her back to the lovely view and tell us she doesn’t want to look at it. Fortunately this is still remedied by telling her not to look at the lovely view, which results in her turning round and looking at it to defy us. Again.
It’s getting tiring, and I would think probably isn’t about to change for the next twelve years, right?
She’s inherited some of me, well, a lot of me. I can see it, I talk to it and hear a mini-me talking back. We pull faces and they’re the same and we laugh at how similar we seem. It’s strange. My little girl is so much more aware of herself than the little girl of a year ago. I’ll say something and she’ll correct me, “no mummy, I am in fact this” and tell me. She tells me exactly what she is. She tells me exactly what everything is.
Me, meanwhile, I barely remember what things are any more. I talk about menus when I mean calendars, I talk about radiators when I mean refrigerators, and I can’t remember names. Fortunately Mini-Me is around to help; she knows too many words.
Today she played ‘parties’ which involved her writing out party invites for her ‘friends’. After asking me how to spell names, I asked her to write what she thought she was hearing instead of asking for help. She got them right. Even my days of spelling things so she doesn’t know what I’m talking about will come to an end. That is of course if I get the right word in the first place, chances are in a matter of weeks she’ll be correcting me on that too…