Lately Abigail has given up calling me Mom - or for that matter Mama or Mommy, too. Right now she can't seem to decide what she wants to call Josh or I so she's invented a Mom-Dad hybrid word to make sure that no matter who she's speaking to, we're all covered. There are two options in Abby-speak: Mad or Dam. It's great. Really. I'm Mad and Josh is Dam, or wait, is it I'm Dam and he's Mad? Who knows. The short of it is that Abigail has taken to speaking in a kind of code that goes far beyond the usual dropping of vowels in a new word or warping the pronunciation so that only a Mother can translate. We have come across the hilarious "ca-bees" which so far as we've figured means "because" and "flamnnnngooma" (which when spoken is about 6 syllables) that means flamingo.
I feel as though I need a dictionary to navigate her childhood. Each day I stand before her earnestly trying to decipher what she means this time. Pointing helps but at least a half dozen times a day I get an exasperated look from her (who knew that the "gee you're stupid Mom" looks that teenagers have perfected begins at 2) and she tries again to explain what she's after. Poor girl, so often I just abandon the project and try to distract her with her favorite toy/snack/game. I can only hope that when Isabel reaches this age Abby will still speak toddler sufficiently to translate. It seems like such a small hope in a life: to have someone else tell you what in the heck your ticked off toddler wants - even if it's your other toddler!