I love words. I confess my nerdiness in admitting that I have attempted to read the dictionary. I made it into the c's before life intervened. I further confess my nerdiness by telling you that it almost broke my heart when I discovered one of my children had scrawled his name on the inner cover of a dictionary I received as an award in my junior year of high school for combining "academic excellence with clarity in written and spoken expression." The award side of it is minimally relevant... I just love that dictionary. It's pretty, and it's full of words.
I used to have this little soap box of sorts, back when I was twenty-one and hadn't started to outgrow obnoxiousness. (There may be a debatable idea in that sentence. Please overlook it for now). Anyhow, there was a time when, if the subject of words came up or if I could turn the conversation to the subject of words, I would argue that we'd be a lot better off if more people knew and used more words, and used them correctly. Much less confusion and misunderstanding, if only we communicated more clearly... Tsk. Tsk. I still believe words are important and that wider and properly used vocabularies would benefit society. I just don't have time or energy to argue about it. Sometimes I hardly have time or energy to compose a coherent sentence, and as such feel a bit hypocritical arguing for improved vocabulary skills.
This does not diminish my excitement, however, over recent developments in our home. We have a two-year-old, and as I mentioned in a previous post, his vocabulary is increasing daily and dramatically. As a word lover, I find his discovery and mastery of the English language delightfully mind-boggling. (I would say indescribable, but since I'm continuing to write about his discovery and mastery of the English language, clearly "indescribable" is not the appropriate word).
On the surface, it's exciting to watch a little person learn about his world. On a slightly deeper level, it's exciting to observe him assign names to the people, objects, and actions he sees daily.
Then there's the level on which I marvel at the ease with which little human beings acquire language. We may intend to teach them particular words or phrases, but we don't look at our babies and think, "Sweet baby, it's about time to teach you some English. Lesson One..." No. In a miraculous, unavoidable process, big people speak and little people solve the puzzle of language. They may fit words together in ways we don't normally consider graceful, but when you think about it, "Pick up me," a phrase more than one of my children employed in their early speaking years, is more direct than "Pick me up." It may not be more advanced or more stylistically developed or what have you, but the beauty is in its simplicity and in the fact that the child put it together himself, without having been told how to arrange his words. That a little guy who can barely put his shoes on or carry a cup without spilling can construct a sentence that so clearly communicates his desires is a miracle of human life.
This brings me to the most thrilling aspect of language acquisition. I know why mothers can't wait to tell everyone they know that their babies have learned a new word. It's not for any of the wonders listed above. Rather, it is because the words a child uses and how he uses them reveal a little more of who he is. From the moment of conception, we wonder who our children will be, from what color their eyes will be to what will delight them. I'm sure older mothers would confirm my suspicion that a mother never stops wondering what lies within her child's heart and mind. Herein lies the greatest joy of a speaking toddler: We get to peek inside his secret world. We learn, by the words he latches onto and the emotion with which he utters them, what lies within his heart and mind.
In our case, we are learning that Luke has at least two great loves. At nearly twenty-seven months of age, the boy cannot refrain from exuberantly naming every baseball, football, soccer ball, and basketball that comes within his range of vision. He has learned almost every rank of Cub Scout - "Tiger," "Wolf," "Bear." We're still working on "Webelos," but I have no doubt he'll master that word, too. (If only they had Cub Scouts for preschoolers!)
In addition to showing us what he loves, he is showing us that he has a sense of humor. He comes up with little jokes, like telling his sister, who claimed to have no name, that her name is, "Buzz Lightyear!" He is also expressing his opinion on various matter, from his objections to taking a nap to what he'd like to drink. Words new and old proceed from his mouth in such rapid succession that I could not possibly, even if I had the time and inclination, keep a toddler vocabulary notebook.
So I just revel in this union of language and boy. It's a spectacular time to be a mother.
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