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Look Who’s Talking II

Submitted by on Sunday, 1 June 2008 No Comment

Originally published June 11, 2007, thehive.modbee.com   

Strange utterings from Little Guy’s world of learning to talk:

 Cop-a-ler:  Helicopter, of course. Sometimes, he’ll just give up and say “airplane.” He never gives up, though, with Thomas’ friend, Harold the Cop-a-ler. I guess some aircraft are just too important to dismiss as mere planes.

 A-wa : Agua, or water. Little Guy goes bilingual, courtesy of his friend “Keen” at day care. “Keen” – you can get a huge smile out of Little Guy just by saying the kid’s name, so you know they’re buds – has his little friends speaking Spanish, too, which is fine by me. I know enough Spanish to muddle by, but I don’t think I would have caught this had Little Guy’s teacher not tipped me off to the “a-wa” epidemic. What the heck, I’ll play along. Tonight, when he was saying “more a-wa,” I responded with “mas a-wa.”

 Bummo : This means either “steering wheel” or “driving.” Why, I do not know. It appears to be a completely made-up word.

He started this a few weeks ago, when he, Big Guy and I were cleaning out my car. Little Guy hopped in the front seat, starting twisting the steering wheel and yelling “Bummo! Bummo!” Big Guy, with his advanced maturity and sophistication, asked, “What the heck is he saying?” Little Guy had forgotten about bummos until Friday night, when we were visiting my brother’s big rig. He practically leapt out of uncle’s arms into the cab. There, right before his eyes, was the biggest bummo in the entire world. He could not believe his luck!

He also couldn’t believe it 15 minutes later when it was Big Guy’s turn at the bummo. Stood in the truck and wept crocodile tears at his loss. Bummer.

We still can’t figure out where “bummo” came from. My husband doesn’t recognize it as anything Assyrian, and I can’t think of a Spanish word that works either.

The only possibility is, it’s a variation of “bumper.” As in “you guys quit pounding my bumper right now.” I’ve probably said that a few times. Or maybe a few dozen.

At least we know the meaning, if not the origin, of Little Guy’s made-up word. When Big Guy was about this age, he started running around yelling “ab-ick.” That never made sense until the day he started doing his ab-ick dance just as the ice cream truck music got within earshot.

He’d probably been thinking for months, “Gosh, Mommy is so stupid. I keep asking for ice cream and she just looks at me like she doesn’t know what I’m talking about.”

Copyright 2007 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

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