Friday, July 27, 2007

Now you're really talk-ing

I’m really pleased at how things are going for Matt speech-wise that sometimes, I just can’t help feeling ridiculously melodramatic. Especially when I think of him as that scrawny unprotesting three-week old infant in a hospital room. Oh man.

But oh, the joy of a mother seeing her kid grow-up (or hearing her kid grow-up) wonderfully.

And wonderful really comes to mind when I think of darling son at this particular stage when speech develops rapidly.

And yes, he’s carefully building and expanding his vocabulary these days. Steadily building. Sometimes by "parroting" the adults. And sometimes, by cleverly creating his own language. Hence, I find myself crossing the bridge of amazement to one of amusement in so many instances.

At his age, I think he’s doing great. He’s even doing much better than most 18 to 24 month-old kids I’ve seen around here.

His vowels are good and his consonants, equally so. Thanks to, maybe, Sesame Street. And maybe some credit goes to my mother who coaches him in most of her “sitting” time.

His consonant clusters need to be improved though. For instance, he needs to work on the “ch” which he enunciates as “sh.” (So his match would sound like mash) But I’m not so bent on making him sweat on that at this time. Let time deal with that.

Then lately, Matt has been fond of using the –ing form of the verb. Like when before it was “drive,” now he’d say “driving.” Or eating for eat, calling for call, dropping for drop, cooking for cook, etc.

I think this latest development in his speech is somewhat amusing.

One time, while pointing to some eggs he told me, “Maa, egg ah want.” I was so busy doing the dishes then. But he went on by stressing “egging*, egging” to me. It must have bugged him to see his mother so inattentive to him, and bugged him enough that he was able to concoct a single word, in its –ing form, equivalent to his request.

On top of that, I hear him “create” new words by adding –ing to root word in our dialect. By far, the most popular word is tawaging (which he sometimes say while lifting our landline handset).

He also has this amusingly strange habit of trailing some Visayan translations after some words. Like when he says drop (or dropping), he’d also say hulog following that. Or gahi after saying hard, etc.

* not used to denote pushing or prodding
noun, tawag means call; verb, to call.

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Dr. Makiko

I was in the mall last Saturday. And I couldn't resist buying Matt a new doctor toy set.

The old set I bought him months ago was already reduced to odd bits and pieces.

And I want him to have a toy steth so he will not feel threatened by the sight of that hanging on his pedia's neck on our next visit.

Sesame street!

He fell inlove with the toy, or maybe the girl in the box.

Hamming it up before the camera.

Mirror, mirror, does this steth look good on me?

Dr Matt , you forgot to put your shoes on.

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Simple terms

The following transcript is almost in verbatim.

Me, pointing to the Holy Family statue in our room: Matt, this is Baby Jesus.

Matt, all eyes and ears: (silence)

Me, pointing to the Crucifix: And here is Jesus on the cross.

Me, pointing to His hands and feet: Jesus is nailed here, here and here. (So there's) blood on His hands and feet. Hurt. Jesus is hurt.

Matt wriggled in my arms and try to reach for the Crucifix placed on top of the cabinet. Tentatively.

Me, trying to calm him with my hand rythmically moving up and down his back: No, Matt. No.

Matt was not stilled. He continued shooting his hand to the Crucifix.

Me, wondering : Maaatt...Why?

Matt, still grasping
, almost frantically now: Hug, hug.

Me, still and quiet for a second: Ohhh... (in understanding).

It dawned on me that in his young mind, getting hurt means getting more than ample doses of hugs and kisses to make the pain "gone na."

Picture credit:

Wednesday, July 04, 2007

Another circus trick

Here's an afternoon full of fun.

It started innocently with dear Matt watching Sesame Street's Happy Healthy Monsters,

which I know he thoroughly enjoys. All the time.

But then you just couldn't contain the vigor and energy of a toddler. No, don't even try. Or ever expect to be successful at containing it. Even with an entertaining show like Sesame Street.

Nor could you attempt to predict a day with a kid.

Because chances are, a seemingly quiet afternoon will turn into
a lip-smacking crazy somersaulting afternoon.

Pardon the not too good quality of these pictures. Quality was just the least of my concern the time this was taken. Or the angle these pics were taken. I'm even questioning my sanity for wasting a moment just to take these. But then these are precious moments in my son's life.


Get set...


Make it a heart-stopping crazy somersaulting afternoon with my dear son Matt. And surely you know now that I didn't mention the circus thing just to jest.

No, don't say " surely you jest" ever again to me.

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

mean mike?

Lord, when I said that maybe Matt's going to be a good singer, I was really half -serious with that.

Oh Lord, he could give You his rendition of My Jesus is Alive and I know You'd be happy to hear him ying* that despite the fact that only the words alive and wella (allelujia) are on it.

But he could try singing a mean Rain, Rain Go Away, too. Then again, with only the words rain and again as lyrics.

It really makes me smile to think about his knack at putting minimal words together in a melody.

I'm just concerned, Lord. For someone who can clearly pronounce the word microphone and can identify its use, I'm just puzzled why he gets scared with it.

*ying is Matt's way of saying sing

Monday, July 02, 2007

Funny Bulilit

He saw it again! And he was entertained.

I remember the first time Matt saw it. He was rooted in place and was all-eyes on TV. I know he didn’t understand what they’re saying because the dialogues are mostly in Tagalog/Filipino.

And last Sunday, we saw it again.

It’s a gag show called Going Bulilit , which stars a cast of gangly kids and tackles no childish issues. (In fact, I think it’s very clever, for putting on kids to deliver the punches on issues like politics in the country. Or punches to personalities, political or not. Very smart, indeed. It sort of blunt the sharp edges, lessen the sting.)

Anyway, with the kids making comical faces after each punch line, my son, to my belief, must have found it appealing and amusing. He was laughing animatedly every time.

And this time, I wondered if he can really take in the messages. Or maybe he’s just concerned on the funny faces. But then he has always been fond of watching shows with babies and kids on them.

Sunday, July 01, 2007

When he grows up...

Lord, what will my son be when he grow up?

Will he be a basketball player because he dribbles anything round or things that look round to him. Like one time he spoiled a squash my mother readied for supper. Or that ripe mango intended for dessert. Or that avocado quietly sitting on the counter.

Will he be mountain climber because he stealthily climbs over chairs, cabinets in a jiffy?

Will he be a
driver – race cart driver, bus driver, because he looooves cars, cars and cars and driving, driving and driving. Maybe a mechanic then, because he gets fascinated with batteries, engines and tinkers with his car until they are reduced to bolts, screws and pieces. In mere minutes.

Will he be a show master because he is daring enough to do
heart-stopping tricks and stunts worthy of the Moscow State Circus? And doing it all with a smile while Mama has terror written all over the face?

Or a street peddler because he can holler “isda” or “plastic” like Mang Juan the fish peddler or Mang Pedro the junk buyer? With that voice, he can also be an umpire. Or if I send him to music school, maybe he’d be a good singer.

Will he be a wrestler because he rolls over his stomach and simultaneously hits Mama on the chin or the head with his heel or his elbow? Or will he surpass Manny Pacquiao’s fame in the boxing arena because he delivers good uppercuts and punches, however unintentionally?

Whatever he may be in the future, Lord, let him be one good Christian,too.

Note: isda means fish