Repeat After Me

Genevieve had language explosion today. Almost-words were sliding out of her mouth like soy peach yogurt. She most definitely said diaper and cheese, not that I was using both these words in one sentence. If I say a word a few times, she wants to repeat them back. I see her studying my mouth, lips and tongue movements.

When Gen and I were browsing used books in front of the grocery store today, a nosy old man on the street said, “Oh, what a cute baby. It’s a boy, right?”

“No, she’s a girl.”

“Oh, well then you shouldn’t dress her like a boy.”

I just furrowed my brow at him and he shuffled along. I’ll dress my baby any way I want to dress her, and besides, she was not even looking boyish in the least. Just because her frilly romper is blue she’s supposed to be a boy?

I bit the inside of my cheek to refrain myself from expressing my true emotions. It would not be prudent for me to freely express my rants in front of Genny. I do not want her to be like the “Meet the Fockers” baby whose first word was asshole.

Not that I ever would have called the old man a nasty name. I long ago eradicated most expletives from my speech. Except when I get really frustrated then some things just plop out, but I’m trying to change my worst insult into “jack rabbit” or “fudge” as in, “Fudge you, you gosh darn old jack rabbit, she’s a girl!”