I am really enjoying that Z and I can have two way conversations - and I'm constantly amazed at how quickly his vocabulary and understanding develops. However, sometimes I am convinced that someone is teaching him German, Dutch, Finnish, or perhaps Latin behind my back.
On the way home today, he said something like "I want a nooy natcheow" (not being fluent in any of these languages, I'm sure I have that spelling wrong). I said "what, honey?", and he repeated it, syllable for syllable, 4 times before he finally just started yelling, which turned into crying. I felt terrible! I felt useless!
At least if I knew that he was asking for a knife, or a bag of everlasting gobstoppers, I could tell him no and then expect and understand the subsequent meltdown. For all I know, he was asking to listen to his favorite Jack Johnson song and I sent him into a fit of tears by denying him such a simple pleasure.
At least I can be grateful that some of the English I am teaching at home is getting through, too. And I never tire of hearing him speak - be it in English, French, or Portuguese....
Stories, insights and adventures from a single mom and her little man.
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