A glimpse into the future?

Bug has decided that he is no longer going to call me “Mommy”. It is now “Mama”, said in the most baby-like babble possible. This shouldn’t bother me as much as it does. I mean, some children always call their mothers “Mama”. But it’s like he’s trying to screw with my mind. Or maybe he’s trying to get out of having to learn to use the toilet. Like, “See, I’m a little baby still – I can’t be rushed into this adult lifestyle of toileting and tying my own shoes.”

I don’t know where he picked it up, but I suspect it’s the same place that has taught him to sound like he’s a character on Designing Women. “Daddy” sounds like Da-yuh-dee. Cars being towed are “busted.” And it’s not “bed” or “bread”, it’s bey-ud and bray-ud. I know I’m not Southern accent free by any means, but I do keep my one syllable words to one syllable.

So you add “mama” to these things, and I feel like I’m raising a Good Ol’ Boy. Like one day I’ll look up and he’ll be standing there in a Polo button up, khaki shorts, shades and flip flops with an old faded baseball cap on his head, nursing a PBR in a coozy, like the guys we saw yesterday in Little Five Points standing on their stoop with a big sign that said “You Honk, We Drink”. (We honked of course, and they raised their bottles to us in unison and took a swig. Ah, frat boys.)

I don’t think I’m ready for that.


1 Anjie { 11.12.07 at 11:50 am }

so, is this like being taught bilingually in school? instead of learning spanish, he’s learning southern-ese?

2 alianora { 11.12.07 at 11:58 am }

Last year, I spent two hours sitting and talking to a delightful three year old with the thickest Southern you’ve ever heard.

In the middle of the Anchorage airport.

It was like being home. Except for the snow. And the cold. And the fact we had emergency gear in our snowpants.

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