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  • Parlez-Vous Toddler?

     With Elsa and Clio talking so much, and able to communicate increasingly complex thoughts -- why, just yesterday Clio was commenting that while the media frenzy over the Henry Gates/Cambridge police issue was lamentable, it has spurred some important conversations about race in America -- it's easy for me to get into the mindset that everyone should understand what they're saying as well as Alastair and I do. But the fact is, a lot of what they say is still unintelligible to the larger world. 

     

    Which I guess shouldn't come as a surprise. While it's immediately clear to me that "We goto go on da feeeeg go inda kye!" means "We're going to go on the swings and go up in the sky!" ( I also know that "up in the sky" means way up high, though the exact moment at which "sky" highness is attained remains a bit of a mystery) I can't expect someone who doesn't spend huge amounts of time with the girls to know that.

     

    Pic after the jump!

     

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  • Overheard

    A definite check in the "positives" column for having twin toddlers: getting to hear them talk to each other. Yesterday morning, while I was getting ready for work, the girls woke up and I overheard the following conversation:

     

    Elsa: (excited) I making a big poopie, Kee-o!

    Clio: (No response)

    Elsa: (Even more excited) I make a BIG poopie, Kee-o!

    Clio: (Conciliatory) That's OK, Elsa.

     

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  • Little Sponges

    OK, this language learning thing is getting out of control. I am flabbergasted by how quickly the girls are picking up words and making connections between things now. Almost every day, something comes out of their mouths that surprises and astounds me. The other day we were reading a book together -- many of you probably know it: it's that Sandra Boynton one where all the animals have on different colored clothes, and the turkey always screws up, putting the socks on his wings or the pants on his head or whatever: "Oops!"  At the end (SPOILER ALERT!) the turkey finally gets it right and puts all his clothes on the right way, and then proceeds to jump into a pool. ("Oops!")

     

    Now, I have read this book to the girls a number of times before, but I wouldn't say it's been in heavy rotation. When I read it to them the other day, it was the first time in a while. But wouldn't you know it, when we got to the last page, Elsa pointed and said "pool!" How did she know that? She's never been in a pool, has only seen one a few times, from afar, and as far as I know her main exposure to the word would have been through occasional reading of this book. And yet, there it was, clear as chlorinated water before a clothed turkey has jumped into it: "pool!" This word -- like so many others -- was apparently just sitting there in the recesses of her little brain, waiting for an occasion to be used.

     

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  • Waffles and Bubbles and Flowers, Oh my!

    The whole language acquisition thing seems to be picking up 'round here. The girls keep surprising me with new words. Last week, I was getting the their breakfast ready -- Kashi waffles topped with applesauce, always a big hit -- and when I brought it to them, Elsa exclaimed "wa-foo!"

     

    Oblivious as always, I first just smiled and repeated, in my dopey mom voice, "Yeah, wa-foo!" and then it hit me: by George, the girl is saying waffle! How long has she known this? Has she been holding out on me? Practicing in her crib at night? What else can she say? Pancakes? Eggs Benedict? So, of course, I started hooting "Yes! Waffles! That's right! Good girl! Waffles!" and trying to find ways to use "waffle" logically in sentences for the rest of the day. ("Remember at breakfast when you ate a waffle?" "You look very waffle today, Elsa!" "Dinnertime! We're not having waffles!")

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  • The Word of the Month Club

    In the beginning -- well, back when the girls were around 11 months old -- there was "Dah!" meaning dog, (or pretty much anything with four legs) and it was good. About a month later came "nana" (banana, then any food), and soon after that it was "cah" (car) and "shizz" (shoes) and so on. But it seemed like each time a new word was acquired, the old one suddenly fell out of fashion and they'd rarely if ever say it. (Dah? What's a dah? Come on, Mommy, let's talk about shizz!)

     

     

    There are definitely still word "fads" around here -- "babies" is the big one this week -- but in the last month or so it seems like finally the girls are hanging onto multiple words, and employing them with increasing accuracy. Clio is the more verbal of the two; she tends to use more words (and signs) than Elsa, and is eager to learn new ones. Elsa, meanwhile, is more interested in honing her gross motor skills (i.e. climbing, pillaging, plundering, ransacking).  Of course, we suspected all along that this might be the case. Elsa was always ahead physically, but Clio started cooing and babbling well before she did. Ah, yes, I remember it well.....(Flashback! Wavy screen....)

     

     

     

    Ha -- at the time, this seemed incredibly impressive and interactive to us. It's all relative, ain't it?

     

    Anyway, we're having fun seeing both girls add more words to their vocabularies. I'd say between them they have maybe 10 or so in all, and they obviously understand much more than that. But the real language "explosion" that I hear people talk about hasn't come yet. In fact, I think in general E & C are a little behind the curve in their language acquisition skills. I'm not worried, though. It's supposedly normal for twins to talk later than singleton kids. It can be due in part to premature birth (not the case here, as ours were born at a healthy 37 weeks, at 5 pounds each), but can also be a result of the way caregivers communicate and interact with twins. It's a little sad, actually: twins don't get as much one-on-one time with parents or caregivers, so they don't get as many opportunities to learn and practice verbal communication. And because wrangling twins can be stressful and tiring, caregivers tend to talk to their kids a little less and use more quick directives ("drink your milk," "don't take your sister's book," "come here," etc.). Apparently this is why second children sometimes talk later, too.

     

    Then there's the "Twin talk" theory; that twins communicate with each other in their own "language," so they're slower to learn the language of us big people. I haven't really seen much evidence of this between Elsa and Clio, unless you count stealing toys or food away from each other causing the other to scream and cry as some special form of "communication." Or, maybe their twin talk is so secret and sophisticated that I don't even notice it. Maybe they send telepathic messages to each other: "Hey, mom's trying to get us ready to go out somewhere in the cah. Let's both poop!"

     

    I'm curious to hear from readers -- especially moms of twins -- when did the language thing really "take off" for your kids?

     


  • Moo, Baa, La la la

    Like parents across the nation and -- I assume -- around the world, Alastair and I have spent a substantial amount of time teaching our kiddos the sounds that various animals make. Why do we all do this? I mean, seriously, could anything be *less* useful in life than knowing that a duck says quack quack quack, a horse says neigh, a cow says moo, etc.? Even if you live on a farm, this is not terribly relevant information. What does a cow eat, what do I do if my cow is sick, what does a cow get on the open market these days -- these are all potentially helpful things to know. But what a cow says? I'll bet farmers almost never get asked that question.

     

    Nevertheless, our children's books are full of animals, and "baaa" is easier to pronounce than, say, "refrigerator," so, in spite of the lack of practical applications, Elsa and Clio are really getting to know their animal sounds. They've been doing "moo" for a while now, though it's more like "mmmm." (Which, if you think about it, is more what a cow actually sounds like. As a farmer will tell you.) Elsa is really good at "Woof woof woof," always said with head bobbing in time. (Sometimes she just bobs her head and skips the woof-woof-woof altogether.) Clio is great at sheep ("baaaa" with the tongue stuck out). Both girls are good at snake (shshshhhh), and if you show them a monkey or gorilla, they'll say "hoo hoo" and hit their chests with their hands.

     

    Clio has an especially enterprising approach to all this nonsense. If she doesn't know what sound a particular animal makes, or is feeling sillier than usual, she'll just make something up. If you go through a book with her, for each animal she'll do either a squeal or a squawk, or a cute little falsetto "ba ba ba!" -- a different sound for each animal, it just has nothing to do with what that animal actually says. I wonder if maybe she's doing animal sounds in other languages. You know, like how in Spanish a dog says "gau gau!" and French it says "fromage! fromage!" or whatever.

     

    The animal sound thing is fun, but I also can't help feeling a little like I'm asking the girls to perform stupid human tricks when I prompt them. It's a lot more interesting now that they're just starting to acquire some actual words. Both of them say "nana" to mean either banana or food in general (a slight tonal shift changes the meaning, like in Chinese), say "dada" for daddy, and call the cat something approximating "gaa." Elsa has also recently picked up car ("Caw!") and fish ("shh"). I'm not sure why these two words "stuck" over others -- we use the word "book" probably ten times as much as "car" and definitely more than "fish" and she's still not saying it -- but for whatever reason, they did. One Elsa's favorite things to do now is stand at the front window and point at the cars parked on the street, going "caw! caw! caw!"  To Clio's credit, she also sometimes says car ("cah!") when Elsa says it, but I'm not 100% convinced she knows what it means. Her real specialty is comprehension. She can point to her eyes, nose, mouth, ears, and feet when you say the words. And I can say "Clio, go into the kitchen and get your cup" or "Clio, come help me do my taxes," and she totally gets it.

     

    As someone who plays with words and language for a living, I'm loving the fact that we're starting to get into the whole language acquisition phase of things. You really don't realize how fascinating and amazing it is until you start to see it firsthand. And, of course, everything is more fascinating and amazing when it's being done by your own children. I may feel quite differently once they learn to say things like "no" and "I want a Bratz doll" and "Can I borrow the car?" But for now, it's a hoot. (aka "what an owl says.")

     


  • Blog in the fog

    I wish I could say that I've recovered completely from this bout of PWD (Post-weaning depression). I am definitely feeling somewhat better, but I'm definitely still not myself. When I do feel better, though, I'm thinking maybe I should go on the road as the spokesperson for PWD awareness: do the daytime TV circuit, give out PWD bracelets and bumper stickers, get into a fight with Tom Cruise -- the whole nine yards. Seriously, it's so strange to me that there isn't more information out there about this. Even the LaLeche League web site had basically nothing on it about the post-weaning hormone crash. Crazy!

     

    Anyway, here's a round-up of tidbits from the last week or so, plus some random fab hat pics. (Please forgive the scattered nature of this post. Think of it as a reflection of how the inside of my brain feels.)

     

    1. Reports of the death of the morning nap have been greatly exaggerated. To our sheer delight, the morning nap boycott has turned out to be a passing thing. The girls are still taking two naps; the morning one is just starting a little later and not lasting as long. We'll take whatever we can get.

     

     

     

     

    2. Elsa has a new word: "Nana." It primarily means "banana," but is increasingly used to refer to any food. Meanwhile, Clio now knows the names of all the meals, as indicated by the fact that if you say "breakfast," "lunch," or "dinner," she will make the sign for "more"  (which we've taught them in conjunction with meals) or "eat." Elsa also knows the sign for "cup," which she uses for cup and bottle. Next week we plan to teach them the signs for "fricasee," "julienne" and "yes, I'd like freshly ground pepper with that."

     

     

     

     

     

    3. In my hormonally-induced torpor, I confess to using TV as a mother's helper of late. The girls don't stay interested for very long -- 10 minutes at a stretch, tops. But it's something. Anyway, I just thought I'd pass on the sum total of what I've learned from children's television in the past week: 

    • Curious George is a monkey so he can do things we can't. (I think it's important to add that he can also do things that most monkeys can't.)
    • Dora may be a good role model for girls, and it's cool that she helps kids learn Spanish and all, but her voice is really fucking annoying. 
    • Teamwork/cooperation is the most important thing in the world. Nay, the universe.

     

     

    Cooperate, dammit!

     

    I'm sorry I don't have more exciting news to report, in a more entertaining fashion. It's been a pretty tough week. I really appreciate all your comments and support on the last post. It's nice to know I'm not alone in this. Hopefully, it'll be over soon, and I'll be back to my well-adjusted, generally happy self. Except with much smaller breasts.

     


  • The dogs have their day

    A few months back, I thought that Elsa was trying to say "kitty," based on the fact that several times she exclaimed "ghee!" prior to lunging for our cat. Then she stopped saying it, and I told myself it was just a fluke. So, I hesitate to write this, because I don't want to jump the gun again, but I am reasonably certain that Elsa is now trying to say "dog." She pronounces it "dah!" (Note exclamation mark.)

     

    When we were down at Alastair's parents' house for Thanksgiving, she started saying it almost every time she saw their two golden retrievers. She'd stand up against the glass doors leading out from the living room (the designated "baby" room in the house) or the sliding doors over the deck, and when the dogs approached she'd say "dah!" over and over again. Not just a babbling "dah dah dah," mind you, but a very pointed "dah!" (pause) "dah!" Like, "Hey! That's a dog! See? I know the word for dog! That's what it is! A dog!" And sometimes she'd even go up to the glass doors and say "dah!" when the dogs weren't there, like she was looking for them. (Maybe she was just saying "door?" Nah.) The corker: on our way home when we stopped at a rest stop and I took her out of the car for some air, she saw a woman walk by with a dog on a leash and said "dah."  (No exclamation mark that time, because we'd been crawling in holiday traffic and she -- like the rest of us -- was exhausted.)

     

    Full discosure: She also said "dah!" several times while pointing to the drawing of Eeyore on the back of her new Winnie the Pooh rider toy thingy. Now, I realize that Eeyore's not a dog. But he's got four legs and a tail. Same goes for our cat, who Elsa is also now calling "dah!" So, maybe she doesn't understand the finer zoological distinctions that make a dog a dog. But she does seem to think that "dah!" is a word associated with four-legged animal-type creatures.

     

    OK, even fuller disclosure: sometimes she says "dah!" for things that don't look remotely like a dog. But I swear, it's not just a random sound. I get the sense she's actually trying to talk. Or at least she seems to get the idea that when you make a sound, it can actually mean something. So, while I'm not sure "dah!" counts as her first word, I'm going to say it's her first proto-word. 

     

    Meanwhile, Clio's got a new linguistic trick of her own: sticking her (surprisingly long and pointy) tongue out and saying "la la la la la" when she hears music or singing. My dad swears she actually sang "Ode to Joy" after I played it on their toy keyboard, but I think she just got lucky. Still, there's definitely some kind of vocal mimicry happening. In fact, more and more, the girls are becoming little imitators.

     

    Pretty soon we're going to have to stop cussing, spitting, and kicking puppies. Truly, it's the end of an era.

      


  • Score one for the cat

    I have made a startling discovery: I think that Elsa can say "kitty."

     
    OK, so she pronounces it "ghee ghee," but close enough, right? She has uttered these two little syllables, or sometimes just a single "ah-gheee!" in the cat's presence far too many times for me to believe it's a coincidence. It first occurred to me the other morning as she lunged for the cat, wild-eyed and grinning, that her exclamation of "ghee ghee" may not just be a generic gurgle of pleasure. When else did she say ghee ghee? Almost never, that I could remember. But I thought maybe I was just hearing what I wanted to hear. 

     
    Then, other day, she was sitting on the floor, beaming across the room in the direction of the back sliding doors and said "ghee ghee," and reached out her hand. Our cat was sitting on the couch next to me, so my initial thought was, well, I guess "ghee ghee" doesn't mean anything after all. Or maybe it means "sliding doors" or "Gosh, it's great to be alive!" Then, I looked out the back doors, and what did I see but our our neighbors' big, fluffy badass cat strutting about on the back porch. Ghee ghee!!

     
    Am I crazy? Is it possible that Elsa is actually sort of saying her first word? It makes complete sense that it would be "kitty." She is the cat's number one fan, and we say "kitty" this and "kitty" that whenever the babies see or interact with her. This actually would take care of the "what did they say first? Mama or Dada?" angst quite nicely. The cat, once again, shows us who's really in charge.
     

    Now, of course, Alastair and I are both obsessed with trying to get Elsa to say ghee-ghee.  I've taken to randomly scooping our poor, beleaguered cat up and holding her in front of Elsa and saying "who's that? who's that? Is that the kitty? Is that the ghee ghee?" Elsa gives me her "what have you been smoking?" look and the cat writhes and complains and Clio watches the whole affair with twinkly-eyed amusement as she sucks on a rubber spatula. (Clio's first words are going to be "oral fixation.")

     

    Anyway, we'll see how this ghee-ghee thing develops. Although, for the next week there will be no ghee ghee around -- and probably no new posts, either. We're headed up for our annual week-long vacation at Sandy Island, a YMCA family camp on Lake Winnepesauke in New Hampshire, which Alastair's family has gone to for years. It's a little like that place in Dirty Dancing, but much more rustic, and no dance lessons with Patrick Swayze. Alas.

     

    See you in a week!

     



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About the Blogger

Jane Roper

Jane Roper in Boston

One baby? Piece of cake. Try two. This working mother gives you the inside scoop on the ultimate in extreme parenting: twins.

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