Mind the Gap!

The gap between the words Andy understands and the words he can say is widening on a daily basis. It's alarming how much of what we say to him he actually seems to get, while, in return, he can only nod, shake his head, and say the following:

Buh-bye
Ball
Mama
Dada
Duh (dog)
'Nack (snack)
Yeah
More
Baba (bottle)
Wawa (water)
Muh (milk)
Nana (banana)
No
Baby
Dinosaur

So, that's about fifteen words that my little linguist can say. I just wish there were some verbs in there. I wish he could say "Daddy purchases banana" or "Baby destroys dinosaur." Although, I suppose that "milk" can be a verb. It's possible that Andy's first full sentence could be "Mama milks dogs." But I don't milk dogs, so hopefully Andy won't go around telling his day care peeps that I do. Embarrassing!

It's amazing that Andy can only say these fifteen words while he truly understands so many more. I'm starting to realize how much he actually comprehends, and it's staggering. I ask him to fetch various items (shoes, toy cars, books, Advil), and he complies. I ask for basic help with small tasks, and he assists as directed. I tell him that lunch will be ready or it's time for his bath or maybe he'd be interested in watching ten minutes of Brainy Baby so I can try to sneak off to the toilet, and he stands by his highchair, runs to the bathtub, or watches exactly ten seconds of Brainy Baby and then bangs on the bathroom door, crying, while I try and fail, to have two minutes of urinary peace.

He understands hugs, kisses, dancing, everyday objects, and the concept of being home and going out. He understands when I'm telling him not to do something naughty, because that's when he gets that devilish, spiteful look on his face and continues to do it, only harder. He understands being naughty and nice, and he nods or shakes his head appropriately at questions such as "Does Andy want cheese?" (nod) or "Does Andy want to practice trigonometry?" (shake).

As wonderful as it is that Andy understands so much more than he's capable of vocalizing, I got to thinking last night that maybe I'm not giving him enough credit, and that he's understanding not only much of what I'm directing at him ("Andy, bring Mommy book.") but also much of what I'm NOT directing at him.

I didn't think we'd reach this point so early in his young life, but I'm going to have to start watching the things I mutter. For real. This includes the obvious- swear words and gossip- because the last thing I need is for Andy to one day say "Didn't you say that bitch was a gold-digger, mama?" or to hear the words bitch and gold-digger and immediately say "Anita." Or whomever it was that I was referring to at the time.

Not that I'm big on swearing or gossiping (blatant lie, I thrive on doing both) but that's just an example.

Another example is Christmas stuff, which we've been talking about in front of Andy as if he doesn't exist. If I'm not careful- and if it's not too late- there's a good chance that Santa will be ruined forever and that, spoiler alert, Andy will already know to expect the toy work bench on Christmas morning that Mommy- and again not Santa- found for $30 at Aldi. You know Aldi, that place where shopping is an adventure in renting carts, bringing your own bags, and going through all sorts of personal hells in order to save about ten bucks on your groceries? Well, they sell more than food. They have this strangely wonderful miscellaneous aisle filled with random things from patio furniture to computer keyboards to motor oil to toy work benches. Just something you may want to know.

Also, Chris and I talk freely about the future around Andy- about plans to completely eradicate his bottles from his daily schedule (he still gets two) or other developmental items in his future, and maybe Andy is understanding these talks and is thinking, "So that's your big plan for taking away my babas? You losers, now that you've let the cat out of the bag, now I know exactly what to expect and how to counter attack. Idiots."

Oh, the things he could say if he could.
Such as, "Get me out of this basket, weirdo."

And you never want to burden your children with the things you worry about. Andy should be blissfully unaware that there are mortgages or bosses or asymmetrically shaped moles. Andy shouldn't have to lay away at night wondering what Mommy meant when she talked about the Mayans and the year 2012. That end of days stuff, it's way too much to burden a small child with.

It's a bittersweet feeling to come to the conclusion that your child may be- either now or soon in the future- at an age where they are understanding so much more than they're capable of communicating back. It's not the gap itself that makes me feel so weird- it's the fact that my son is growing up, learning so quickly, and reacts so well to words. That he can take part in a dialogue, even if the things that come out of his mouth make him still sound like a baby only interested in "more" and "balls." Those fifteen words, they're deceiving, and, in many ways, he's not a baby, not anymore. He's smart, and, more importantly, he's listening. He gets it.

So if you come over and want to gossip, email me a list of substitution words beforehand. Bitch, for instant, can be "nice lady." That Anita, she sure is one nice lady.