Conversations

Strider has been gone the last few days (at Cousins Camp) so our house has been a bit quieter than usual. While we definitely miss Strider's enthusiasm and funny comments, this has also been a good time for Pete and I to actually hear our other 2 kids. :)

Colsen, especially, has been quite funny to talk to lately. He's definitely in the "Telegram" stage of talking. He tries to get his point across in 1 or 2 words at a time. My friend Jarod recently had the idea to try to tell a story in only 2 sentences, which I thought was pretty fun. But Colsen tries to do it in even fewer words. So we hear things like:

"Hurt! Back! Rayna! Jail!" (which turned out to mean "Rayna hurt my back when she was trying to put me in her pretend jail" for those of you not quite up on toddler-ese)

And he definitely takes after his father in his love of the use of the colon in a sentence. I've often said that Pete is not capable of composing a title for a paper he writes without the use of a colon. (For example, his latest work is entitled, "Non-Market Entrepreneurship: Interdisciplinary Approaches") Colsen has patterned his speech likewise. So here's a typical conversation we had yesterday:

C: Paci: ur-is-it?
Me; I think it's upstairs
C: Oh main! [using his Southern pronounciation of "man"]

And here's another:
C: Phone: ur-is-it?
Me: I don't know.
C: [pointing happily] Up air!
Me: Oh you're right, it's up there.
C: Get it! Have it! Hold it!
Me: No, you can't have my phone.
C: Peeeeeeeaaaasssee?????
Me: Sorry, sweetie
C: [Wailing and throwing himself on the floor]

(And just now as I'm typing this, I heard him say, "Balloon: get it!" He definitely loves that colon.)

The "ur is it" gets a lot of use around here. Yesterday he even asked where his grandmother was by saying, "Nonna: ur-is-it?" Time to start working on pronouns.... I think my friend Trey is writing a toddler pronoun course, so we may sign him up for that.

And Rayna also is providing her share of the entertainment around here. When Strider was gone the other night, we sat down to a pasta dinner. She pushed her food around on her plate a little bit and then whined in a perfect Strider imitation, "Do I have to eat the sauce??" Pete answered her, "Yes you have to eat the sauce. But Rayna you LIKE sauce. Strider is the one who doesn't like it." She said, "I do like sauce? Ok." and promptly picked up her fork and ate it all.

If only all the wills of our children were so pliable.