When Toddlers Curse

In a matter of weeks Milo has moved from the aw-he's-talking-that's-so-cute stage of toddlerhood to the please-don't-say-anything-embarrassing stage. Sometimes his observations are innocuous enough - pointing at someone on a bike and saying "That man. Riding bike." - that sort of thing. People on the sidewalk seem a bit surprised to be pointed at and explained ("That woman. Running.") but it's not particularly embarrassing, just funny.

Then the other day Milo and I were walking down the street when he spied a woman in one of those ridiculously short dresses that are all the rage this summer. "That woman," said Milo. "Swimsuit." I sense that we are only a few short months away from loud questions like "Why is that man so fat?".

And then there is the cursing.

"Christ," Milo said the other day. In a happy coincidence, he said it in front of Jagoda, our Polish cleaning lady, and probably the only person we know who might be offended by such an invective. I was recounting this to Steven on Saturday while we were driving to Fairway.

"Where would he get that?" Steven asked. Followed quickly by "Jesus Christ, did you see the way that guy cut me off?"

"Jesus Christ!" Milo chirped from the back seat. "Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ." And then, for good measure he followed it with "Fuck off!".

But the most embarrassing display of language thus far has to be the following. Let me preface the story by explaining that a few nights prior, while sound asleep, I hit Steven in the face, at which point we both agreed it was time to get a king sized bed. So we went to 1-800-mattress to pick out a new bed. We'd spent about twenty minutes jumping on different mattresses, testing them out, and simultaneously trying to keep Milo from "checking email" on the store's computer, when suddenly Milo walked to the center of the store and said very loudly and clearly so everyone in the store could understand him: "POOPING!".

Words And Phrases Milo Knows That Weren't Invented Yet When I Was A Kid

Check email
iPod
Cell phone
Noble (for Barnes and Noble)
Starbucks
Elmo
Noggin (alas, I have succumbed)

Also, he has a computer that says "Your blog is awesome!"

Word Count

How many words should a 34-year-old have? The next time I go in for a checkup I'm going to ask. In any event, I just learned a new one: otoscope. That's the official word for what I had previously been calling an ear-looking-into-thing. Thank you, my smart doctor friend!

Mommies Who Lie

Earlier this week we took Milo in for his 15 month shots. I'd spent most of the day telling him he was going to go to the doctor and get shots ("sshhots" Milo would repeat, nodding his head) followed by Band-Aids, knowing that he wasn't really processing anything except for the Band Aid part. He spent a happy 30 minutes running around the office in a diaper, opening drawers and playing with syringes, until the doctor came in and began asking questions, like how was Milo's walking and what was he eating and how many words did he have.

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe fifty words?"

The doctor looked at me like I was clearly one of these annoying overachieving lying Park Slope mothers.

"And is he stacking blocks?" asked the doctor.

"No." I said.

"Thanks for your honesty," said the doctor. "He probably won't do that until 18 months, but a lot of people come in and say their 15-month-old can build the Empire State Building."

So what, the whole block-stacking thing was just a trick question? It was a question about me, not about Milo, right? It was a question that clearly stated, you are lying about how many words your son says, so I am going to find out what else you might lie about.

Then the doctor picked up that ear-looking-into thing doctors use and Milo reached for it and said, "hammer."

"It's not a hammer," I said, although I was then hard-pressed to know exaclty what to call it, other than an ear-looking-into thing.

"It does look like a hammer," said the doctor.

At which point I grabbed the ear-looking-into thing, shoved it against the doctor's neck and screamed, "SAY IT! SAY MILO HAS FIFTY WORDS! SAY IT!".

"Okay," said the doctor. "He has fifty words."

"Thank you," I said, sitting back down and handing him the ear-looking-into thing. "You can continue with the examination now."