Talk

Gorgeous Grandbaby is now a toddler.  I think this is a slightly misleading description as it implies that a two year old is spending most of it’s time and energy on some kind of intermediate walking.  Actually it seems to me that the walking is pretty much a done thing.  What she’s mostly doing is refining and developing language.  She used to offer me things that she found difficult, with big, expectant eyes and then progressed to saying “Holp”.  Yesterday she said, very distinctly “I can’t do it”*.  (Which was true – she’s not a quitter – it was very firmly screwed up, probably to stop her opening it without adult supervision).  Then she held it towards me and said “Holp” which was a relief because it’s one of my favourite things that that she says.  I often find it hard to understand her, not being a parent in constant attendance so I have to make wild and sometimes entertaining guesses from context.  Sometimes my stupidity is distressing – if I keep guessing the wrong food, for instance or fail utterly to understand that what she wants is for me to show her ‘In the night garden’ on my iPhone**.   But she has a lot of patience with me, carefully repeating the incomprehensible word or phrase many times, with an intent look and sometimes pointing helpfully to give me the right idea.  I can see her assessing the extent to which I am failing to grasp a simple concept and thinking “Grandma really isn’t very bright but if I keep trying she sometimes catches on”.   Sometimes I can get away with “show Grandma” and she will set off briskly to the fridge or the fruit bowl or the pencil drawer.  I have to say I find this thoughtful and patient behaviour quite extraordinary in someone who is only two and a bit years old.  She is effectively trying to teach me a language which she is still learning herself – as all children must with adults who don’t understand the idiosyncratic pronunciations that come with each child- and she’s teaching like a pro.  Paying close attention, listening carefully and giving as much help as she can.

Of course, the fact that, dim as I am, I don’t have anything else to do while we have these lessons, is a great help and gives me time to be illuminated (metaphorically speaking) .   I remember hoping my children were learning to speak and rushing through assorted attempts at understanding and being very relieved when they began to speak intelligibly (somewhat guiltily enchanted by the babbling that came before, I really thought I should be helping them to speak properly).  They did learn to speak of course  (in fact they’re all quite good at it now) but I didn’t have time to appreciate the enormous problems and brilliant solutions they must have handled while I tried to feed, cloth and keep track of them and often misunderstood what must have seemed to them to be very straightforward requests and explanations.

I’ve believed for years that speaking, singing and laughing have an instant and physical effect on the person doing it.  (A good effect I mean).    It wasn’t my own idea, of course – just think of the Reader’s Digest***.  My theory is that the expulsion of air in a constructive way is good for you – a sort of expressive extension of breathing.   After all, expelling air is always a good thing isn’t it? – who want to be full of  wind  (yes, I knew everyone would get that bit).   And breathing is definitely good for you.  Anyway, I’,m enjoying the Gorgeous child’s adventure in speech (and she sings too though her rhythm is more recognisable than her melodies) and I was the first person for whom she produced a full-on chuckle (a whole row of them in fact – it made me feel as if I’d suddenly become the funniest person in the world).   And today she opened the door to the hall and said, with a raised finger, “Just one minute”.  Wonderful altogether.   Almost a compensation for having to drive off through a frosty wonderland without the smallest chance to stop and take photos.

Tomorrow there may be frost pictures.  Today I’m in a panic, having taken photos out of the window when I got up but then having to hurtle off down the frozen A4 to toddler-mind, so  here is a sunset from last December.

And a couple of people doing inadvisable things in floods

WordPress has a new interface for adding media (photos).  It not only looks different but behaves differently so I’m struggling a bit to get things to happen like they used to.  Especially as it seems to behave differently every time I use it.  Never mind.   I think it’s worked out this time.

Right.  Got to go and practice.  I’ve let myself be persuaded into playing a sort of solo at the Christmas concert this year – on Saturday.  I must be mad.

*It could be that she’s learnt this from me – “I cant find the chocolate cake” – “I can’t make the Television work” – “I can’t open the packet of extremely salty/sweet/expensive/alcoholic, biscuits/pate/chocolates/whatever” – “I can’t find the stickers” (which I’m really a bit fed up with having stuck on my nose).  It’s ok, there are lots of things I can do which we both like.

**Which is fair enough because I haven’t got it on my iphone, or anywhere else for that matter.

***For those of you who are too young to remember it, Reader’s Digest was full of short stories , sort of interesting information and a readers’  funny story section called “Laughter is the Best Medicine”.  A kind of old-fashioned, hard copy wikipedia.