You should hear her swear. Date Thursday, April 25, 2024 - 03:12 PM PST Topic Icky People I suppose this can be seen as a second installment or a sort of response to MJ’s child-rearing basics... Let me tell you a bit about my daughter. She is three years old, she has short blond hair and big blue eyes. She runs around with an imp of a grin and a banshee of a shriek. She loves Batman, The Doodlebops, AC/DC, and classical music. She has a black cat named Bogie, with whom she plays catch. She is a precocious thing who is too smart for my own good. She also loves wearing her boots. They are brown with a strap and a sparkly buckle thing. Those boots kicked off the whole episode in question. The kinderpunk had recently expressed a desire to wear her boots, only to discover that she had outgrown them. She immediately declared she needed new boots and decided we needed to go to her favorite store, one involving a large red bull’s-eye. I was willing to oblige her, having just received my paycheck, so I packed her up and off we went. After rummaging through stacks of Hello Kitty and Dora shoes, I found her a new pair of boots sans any characters, and we decided to reward ourselves with a stroll through the toy section. We wandered down and around, with her chattering a mile a minute, telling me who was who, and what they were good for, with me nodding and smiling, when a voice interrupted us. “Wow, she sure does talk!” When I looked, I saw a middle-aged woman there, with some sort of half-assed smile on her face. I knew that look. I don’t like that look. It’s the look that says “I’m going out of my way hear to recognize your existence. You should be grateful I’m talking to you.” I returned the smile briefly and replied, that yes, my girl likes to let me know what was going on. I turned away again, hoping she would realize that the brief discourse on the state of affairs was over. She didn’t. “How old is she?” Sigh. “She’s three.” “Oh, is she turning four soon?” “No. She just turned three a few months ago.” “Wow! She talks pretty good for a three year old.” Twitch. “Uh huh. Probably because I don’t baby talk her.” “What, none at all?” “There was a little bit when she was an actual baby, but the majority of what she hears is grown-up talk.” “Why on Earth would you do that?” “...because I think baby-talk sounds stupid and I don’t want a stupid sounding kid?” She didn’t stick around much longer after that. Eva kept on yakking, unperturbed by the event, pointing out the horses she already had, and she wanted a new dinosaur, oh look mommy, a dragon, rawrrrr, etcetera. The whole thing made me think, though. This wasn’t the first time I’ve had her language skills pointed out, nor was it the first time I’ve gotten into the whole baby-talk discussion, either. I’m sure it won’t be the last. It’s my own damned fault, I suppose. I just apparently missed the notice saying I had to treat my child like an idiot for the first ten years of her life and talk down to her. I also refrain from clicking my tongue or whistling to get her attention. I click at my cat. I whistle while I work. I call my daughter by her name and expect a response. Where are the parents who realize that their children are people who deserve to be treated like thinking, cognizant, learning human beings? Why should I be expected to treat my kid like some pet or dress up doll? What’s wrong with expecting my kid to tell me what she’s instead of letting her flail and whine while I run through and endless list of things she could possibly be after? Where are the parents who want a smart, articulate kid? (I do realize that the parents on this site are the ones with the smart kids. I just needed to bitch.) This article comes from Shmeng http://www.shmeng.com/ The URL for this story is: http://www.shmeng.com/modules.php?op=modload&name=News&file=article&sid=856