Chippie’s vocabulary is rapidly increasing.
He is of that age where he is absorbing everything around him, like a sponge .. no literall, I swear he absorbed a sponge. It was there, with him, in the bath, and now …. gone!
Also, he has brothers that are teaching him well; “Chippie, can you say ‘nose’ / ‘eyes’ / ‘poo’ / ‘wee’ / ‘bum’ / ‘Godzilla is an arse head'”
(Followed by “STOP! That is enough. Do not teach your brother things like that. Chippie, can you tell your brother to stop being an obnoxious little twat? Good boy.”)
Which pleases me no end, as my favouritest thing in the world is good communication and my favouritest time in a child’s develoment is that bit where he learns to say enough to communicate what he wants without pointing, urghing, screaming, crying, stomping or throwing and before he can say so much that he annoys you with his incessant gibberish.
He can say “thank you” and “here you go” and “car” and “plane” (bim) and “truck” (tuck) and “train” (ttt ttt ttt too’ too’) and “Monkey Boy” (Ma-poo) and various other words.
So, when I strip him off for his bath this evening, and place him in then gently remove the battery operated trains from his hands and calmly advise him that “these are not bath toys, they can’t go into the bath” (because, I am a parent that likes to talk a lot and annoy them with my incessant gibberish) I simple “please” would have got the message across.
And not the ear-splitting scream, followed immediately by the breath in and the holding of it.
The holding of it until he passed out.