While I was driving my grandsons home yesterday, I heard them conversing in earnest. I could not make out all they were saying, but occasionally 7-year-old Carlo would ask his 2-year-old brother to pronounce something and Carlo would repeat what Oliver said.
After a few minutes, Carlo called out to me, “Grandma!”
“I’ve learned a new language,” he said.
“What is it?”
“It’s two-year-old language!” he replied proudly, which caused me to laugh quite heartily.
“Really?” I managed to say.
“Yes,” he replied most seriously, “now I can speak three languages – English, Spanish, and Two-year-old.”
“That’s fantastic!” I exclaimed with an all-over smile.
Oliver actually speaks English quite well, and has for nearly a year. He picked up talking by listening to his older brother. Everyone can understand what he says in his cute little voice. He repeats everything like a parrot, but some words come out like an Elmer Fudd pronunciation. For example: he will say “yatur” for later and “ti-urd” for tired. (Our favorite is: “Maywy had a yiddle yam.”) But Carlo believes it to be a special language that needs to be deciphered, which is delightful in itself.
(Our curly-headed grandsons! Couldn’t resist this pic. They don’t sit still much.)