Due to parent/teacher conferences Benjamin didn't have kindergarten this morning so he got to accompany me to the doctor for my very last shot (of progesterone). It's really quite exciting because not only does it mean that the baby will at least be born at term (if not full term), it also means that I don't have to endure any more painful shots in my rear end (hallelujah).
I took Benjamin and Zoë in to get flu shots on Monday (Rachel and Miriam had theirs last week) so they were extra sympathetic about my "poke" this morning. Zoë was so funny about her flu shot. The bigger kids all got their shot in their arm; Zoë is such a tiny thing, however, that the nurse decided that her thigh was still the best place for her shot. But because all the other kids had been or were currently complaining about their sore arms, Zoë was, too.
"Gock-gor goke me!" she'd sniff over and over again, rubbing her arm. "Ow-me."
(Translation: "Doctor poke me. Owie.")
She could not be convinced that her arm was fine, even though her bandaid was on her leg. Everyone else had a sore arm so she did, too, and that was final.
Yesterday she kept jabbing me with a toy, saying, "Goke! Goke! Goke!"
I was like, "Ow! Stop that! Zoë, that hurts! Stop poking me. Seriously. Ow. Stop."
Finally I took her instrument of torture away—because come on!—and she got all sulky, patted my shoulder, and explained matter-of-factly, "Mommy, I gock-gor!"
Well, then! Poke away!
Anyway, both kids were very concerned at the doctor this morning. Benjamin wanted to know why it was so hard to push the shot in because his shot "just took a second—POW! Done."
It's because this stuff is thick as all get out!
Zoë kept repeating, "Gock-gor goke you? Gock-gor goke you? Gock-gor goke you?" which I'm sure my "gock-gor" couldn't decode at all, so I decoded it for him. Sometimes I do that in public just so people don't think my children are crazy.
"Yes, the doctor poked me. It's alright."
One day she'll figure out other phonemes, like /d/ or /p/, and then we'll all understand her a lot better.
Speaking of P...
[WARNING: slightly inappropriate (ie. potty-word themed) story below; reader discretion is advised]
Benjamin was rather fixated on that sound on the way home. He was listing all sorts of things that begin with the letter P. "P is for polar bear!" he sang at the top of his lungs. "P! P! Polar bear! P is for pig! P! P! Pig! P is for potty! P! P! Potty!"
This was fine, even endurable, despite the volume, until he got to this part:
"P is for pee-snout...or whatever it's called. I keep forgetting. But when we get to the letter P at school I can draw one on my paper!"
"No, Benjamin. You must not draw that on your paper at school ever!" I said.
"Why not?" he asked. "It starts with P..."
We then had a lovely discussion about (a) proper anatomical terms, and (b) why it would not be appropriate to draw private parts on a worksheet at school (because they are private).
I not exactly sure where the term "pee-snout" came from, though I have a theory. He used to call it his "pee-thing," and I'd always correct him on that, as well (for example, a few months ago he completely fire-hosed the bathroom downstairs. I mean, there was pee in the bathtub next to the toilet, all over the floor, all over the back of the toilet and the toilet seat and just...everywhere! when I asked him what happened he shrugged and said, "I dunno. I aimed my pee-thing but I still missed!"). Pee-thing didn't bother me, though, because I knew he was just describing the function of the body part and it was his toddler-turned-preschooler word for that body part.
It's similar to how "augie-botty" was "water bottle" for years for Benjamin and how Zoë is still perfectly content to call water "la-lo." She is making no effort to fix her pronunciation so I think it will simply be "la-lo" for the time being. And that's fine.
Silly nicknames for private parts, however, should raise a red flag. And "pee-snout" did for me, though, honestly, after talking with him about it I think he came up with this nickname all on his own as well. I actually think it might be my fault because my theory is that when I say, "It's not called a pee-thing; it's called a penis," he hears, "It's not called a pee-thing; it's called a pee-nose."
Going from "nose" to "snout" isn't that much of a stretch...I guess.
I quizzed him just now and he was able to answer everything mostly correct.
"Now, what are your private parts called?" I asked.
"Penis and butt," he said.
That will do, I guess.
"And should you ever draw a penis on a school paper?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because it's a private part."
"That's right."
I really hope he remembers all of that lecture (more importantly, perhaps, the latter half) by the time his class gets to the letter P!
I took Benjamin and Zoë in to get flu shots on Monday (Rachel and Miriam had theirs last week) so they were extra sympathetic about my "poke" this morning. Zoë was so funny about her flu shot. The bigger kids all got their shot in their arm; Zoë is such a tiny thing, however, that the nurse decided that her thigh was still the best place for her shot. But because all the other kids had been or were currently complaining about their sore arms, Zoë was, too.
"Gock-gor goke me!" she'd sniff over and over again, rubbing her arm. "Ow-me."
(Translation: "Doctor poke me. Owie.")
She could not be convinced that her arm was fine, even though her bandaid was on her leg. Everyone else had a sore arm so she did, too, and that was final.
Yesterday she kept jabbing me with a toy, saying, "Goke! Goke! Goke!"
I was like, "Ow! Stop that! Zoë, that hurts! Stop poking me. Seriously. Ow. Stop."
Finally I took her instrument of torture away—because come on!—and she got all sulky, patted my shoulder, and explained matter-of-factly, "Mommy, I gock-gor!"
Well, then! Poke away!
Anyway, both kids were very concerned at the doctor this morning. Benjamin wanted to know why it was so hard to push the shot in because his shot "just took a second—POW! Done."
It's because this stuff is thick as all get out!
Zoë kept repeating, "Gock-gor goke you? Gock-gor goke you? Gock-gor goke you?" which I'm sure my "gock-gor" couldn't decode at all, so I decoded it for him. Sometimes I do that in public just so people don't think my children are crazy.
"Yes, the doctor poked me. It's alright."
One day she'll figure out other phonemes, like /d/ or /p/, and then we'll all understand her a lot better.
Speaking of P...
[WARNING: slightly inappropriate (ie. potty-word themed) story below; reader discretion is advised]
Benjamin was rather fixated on that sound on the way home. He was listing all sorts of things that begin with the letter P. "P is for polar bear!" he sang at the top of his lungs. "P! P! Polar bear! P is for pig! P! P! Pig! P is for potty! P! P! Potty!"
This was fine, even endurable, despite the volume, until he got to this part:
"P is for pee-snout...or whatever it's called. I keep forgetting. But when we get to the letter P at school I can draw one on my paper!"
"No, Benjamin. You must not draw that on your paper at school ever!" I said.
"Why not?" he asked. "It starts with P..."
We then had a lovely discussion about (a) proper anatomical terms, and (b) why it would not be appropriate to draw private parts on a worksheet at school (because they are private).
I not exactly sure where the term "pee-snout" came from, though I have a theory. He used to call it his "pee-thing," and I'd always correct him on that, as well (for example, a few months ago he completely fire-hosed the bathroom downstairs. I mean, there was pee in the bathtub next to the toilet, all over the floor, all over the back of the toilet and the toilet seat and just...everywhere! when I asked him what happened he shrugged and said, "I dunno. I aimed my pee-thing but I still missed!"). Pee-thing didn't bother me, though, because I knew he was just describing the function of the body part and it was his toddler-turned-preschooler word for that body part.
It's similar to how "augie-botty" was "water bottle" for years for Benjamin and how Zoë is still perfectly content to call water "la-lo." She is making no effort to fix her pronunciation so I think it will simply be "la-lo" for the time being. And that's fine.
Silly nicknames for private parts, however, should raise a red flag. And "pee-snout" did for me, though, honestly, after talking with him about it I think he came up with this nickname all on his own as well. I actually think it might be my fault because my theory is that when I say, "It's not called a pee-thing; it's called a penis," he hears, "It's not called a pee-thing; it's called a pee-nose."
Going from "nose" to "snout" isn't that much of a stretch...I guess.
I quizzed him just now and he was able to answer everything mostly correct.
"Now, what are your private parts called?" I asked.
"Penis and butt," he said.
That will do, I guess.
"And should you ever draw a penis on a school paper?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because it's a private part."
"That's right."
I really hope he remembers all of that lecture (more importantly, perhaps, the latter half) by the time his class gets to the letter P!
Laugh out loud funny!
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