Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after.
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| How To Speak Baby Language |
This much we know. Crown, as you will explain to your toddler in a couple of years' time, is an old word for head and not the heavy bejeweled thing kings and queens wear. It is in verse two that the trouble starts. This is the original unbowdlerised version:
Then up Jack got, and home did trot, as fast as he could caper, to old Dame Dob, who patched his nob with vinegar and brown paper.
However many times I sing this, it still makes me laugh. I don't think I found it that funny before fatherhood.
The more you hang around small children, the more like them you become. Childishness turns out to be catching. With luck you will grow out of it, but probably not before your children do. You can either accept this, or you can have a big sulk about it, and go to your room without any dinner.
If you don't believe me, consider for a moment the area of your body south of your nipples and due north of your pubes. In our previous lives as adults we called this our stomach, or if we drank beer, our belly, or if we were doctors or fitness fanatics, our abdomens. Now it's our tummy. Kingsley Amis called this word 'insufferably arch' but then he wasn't a parent in the first decade of the new millennium. It is indeed a horrible mimsy cutesy word, and we all use it.
Now consider bodily functions. In this blog, for comic effect, I have generally used words like shit and piss and vomit, as I did before I became a parent. Notwithstanding that most parents swear less anyway, because they don't want their child's first word to be 'cocksucker', you will veer away from shit and piss in normal conversation, towards poo and wee.
'Have you done a poo then?' you say to the baby as you prepare to change another nappy. The answer of course is 'Yes, you twat,' although happily the baby can't say that yet. The baby could add, 'Why are you talking in that ridiculous tone of voice?' because however hard you try not to, you do speak in a particular way to your infant. This baby voice is slightly higher pitched than normal, slightly slower and more clearly enunciated, and slightly more patronizing. This is the way you might talk to a dog, or elderly upper-class people on holiday talk to waiters.
Words themselves begin to mutate. Some acquire inexplicable echoes. 'Eat your pud-pud.' 'Let's change your nap-nap. Ah, it's a poo-poo.' Extra vowels attach themselves. 'Come on, let's put on your vestie.' The other day I tried to tempt my son with the promise of a 'bathie'. Is this really supposed to sound more appealing than a dull old bath? One father I spoke to admitted that in his house 'pants' have become 'panters', which must be a bit worrying.
BASlL: Out walking, with or without children, I now say 'l'm doing to do wee-wee bush' rather than 'I'm going for a pee in those bushes.' My wife thinks I'm lucky not to have been arrested.
Then there is the swaying to the music. Every parent does this when comforting their child. Only this time you are not comforting your child, there is no music and you are standing at the checkout in the supermarket paying for the weekly shop. Everyone is looking at you the way they look at loonies. You would look at you as if you were a loony, too, if you could. To find out more, you can check out How To Speak Baby Language.