Sunday, October 22, 2006

talk to the hand

Seeings as how the boy hasn't graduated from saying much more than "da da, da da, da da deee" with the occasional "ada!" thrown in, which by the way, what the fuck? The kid has never even heard the word "daddy" and that's all he can bloody say. All he wants to say, judging from the entertainment value he gets from saying it. I've tried pinning him to the floor with my knee across his chest to ensure maximam attention, and saying over and over and over "ma ma, ma ma, ma MA", and when I do, he smiles in delight as he squeals "DADDEE!", so obviously my little educationals work for shit. Which is why I'm baffled as to why last week, I decided to teach the little guy sign language. Just simple things, mind, things like "eat" (moosh all my fingers to my mouth) and "water" (hold three fingers up to mny mouth), so it's not like we're aiming so high as to expect him to hold conversations about the current economic climate or anything, but given Daniel's track record ("DADDEEEE!), he's more likely to be seen forming the internationally recognised sign for that word with his chubby little hands than he is for any foodstuffs. We're giving it the old college try though, so each mealtime I plonk him into his highchair and make the signs and say the word as either shovel some food down his cake hole or offer him his sippy cup of water. I know he's capable of understanding sign language, because if he sees me doing the boobicular volume check, which for anyone who hasn't breastfed before, is what you do around feeding time, especially if you want to keep your rack symetrical, he lies on his side and goes kind of crazy. Even now, in these days of mostly solids and lots of them thanks mum, if I even daintily pick a piece of fluff of my chest, dude understands it to be top up time, so obviously he's learned what the volume check means. It's clear then, that Daniel is capable of understanding sign language, so maybe one day soon he'll start using what I'm teachng him to state his culinary preferences rather than screaming it and hoping I'll eventually get to it after runnining through the inventory of possibilities. I've not caught him squeezing his own little manboobs though, so he's either not jived to the communication being a two way street deal, or this whole sign language gig is a scam.

Anyhoo, we were going through the motions yesterday, me mooshing my fingers to my mouth and saying "eat" as I proffered the loaded spoon, he opening his mouth so wide you'd think he had a flip top head and eating it. This went on until he refused a mouthful and instead, turned to the kitchen window and reached toward it. Usually it's the pigeon that sits atop of the house next door that gets his attention, but nope, no bird there. Odd. So I kept on with the filling of his hole and he kept on with what appeared to be his personal equivilant of Sophie's Choice. Food? Or the window? Food? Window? Dude was obviously conflicted, looking at me urgently and then turjning toward the window, and I was all give me one bang on the tray for yes Daniel, and two for no, is it the bird? but he touched his index finger to his mouth instead, and then looked out the window again. I followed his gaze and this time, saw the sippy cup on the window sill. The sippy cup. Of water. *lightbulb* The cogs began turning in my brain as I slapped my hand to my stupid forehead. Daniel wanted a drink, and he'd been telling me so, and maybe, just maybe, when I kept not buying a fucking clue, he used a hand signal.

Next week I'm going to teach him to turn his hand around so he can use that signal out of the car window each time some brainless fuck cuts me off at the lights, and then the week after that, I'm going to teach him that yes indeedy, it's all about the bird, baby.

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