Connor is about a month away from turning two. His vocabulary exceeds his older brothers’ at the same age, by far. He may not always pronounce the words perfectly, but he sure tries.

Today, the boys are playing outside on their “playground.” (It’s really just a small swingset with a Little Tikes sandbox and basketball goal in the same area, but use your imagination. That’s what they call it.) Connor stood at the backdoor crying and calling for me… He can’t reach the handle to get in. When I got to him, I asked what was wrong.

Connor: “Fwing, Mommy.” (boo-hoo, hooooo)

Me: “You can swing if you want to, Bo.”

Connor: “Fwing GUSHING! Pider! Gushing, Mommy.” 
(translation: My swing is DISGUSTING! Spider [web!] Disgusting, Mommy.”)

Me: “OK, Bo. Let’s go fix it.”

Connor: “Fick it. Ucky pider. Gank you, Mommy. No more pider… no gushing. I fwing!”

And so goes the conversation when you’re not quite two.

This entry was posted on Monday, September 3rd, 2007 at 11:42 am and is filed under Connor. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.