07 Nov Out of the mouth of babes language is power
Jacinta Parsons suffers the consequences of some wicked wordplay with her daughter.
“Can you say Bubonic Plague?” I asked, pointing to a picture of a rat-type character in my two-year-old daughter’s storybook. Without hesitation, she began attempting the four-syllable historical reference to her once innocent rat. Ah, the power. I could also get her to scream out, “Women’s liberation”, and to any detractors, she would also, on command, feign a sort of disgust. Of course, she didn’t understand the complex historical context of her statements – but what a hoot!
Unprovoked, she would pound the table and say, “Damn you father”, which doesn’t really have any reference to anything. Am I evil? Is this the verbal equivalent of beauty pageantry? Am I just forcing her to scream out everything I wish I could say myself? Living through her verbal freedom? Making her say things I wish I would hear in my perfect world?
It progressed to the point where I was unsatisfied with the basics and began making challenges for us. When we finished buying something, it used to be just a simple “Thank you”. But then I started trying things such as, “It was an outstanding retail pleasure. See you soon”, and for the more specific retailer, we changed it to, “Cool man., Keep it real”, which always got a good reception when she threw in a finger point and a wink.
Careful what you wish for!
I just couldn’t resist. She’s miniature and would repeat anything I asked her to say. When would this opportunity ever come my way again? I couldn’t imagine this sort of power existing for very long. And there were signs of rebellion. A verbal coup. Signs that she was not so unaware of the nuance of language.
The other day, when we were standing close to shoppers who were more than 75 years old, she insisted on screaming “Damn you” as loudly as she could. Historically speaking, ‘Damn you’ is quite an insult, and 75-year-olds are not entirely impressed with the witty musings of an aggressive two-year-old who is screaming abuse at them.
It’s becoming apparent that empowering my daughter with a vast and colourful language was not the best idea. What was I thinking?
From my perspective, this turning-two business is not unlike going into battle, and a vague grasp of the English language was all I had going for me. Her weaponry, on the other hand, is sophisticated and powerful and only a highly skilled tactician had any hope of crushing her spirit and taking back any form of government. Giving her language – well, what a fool.
With language, she has worked out how to divide and conquer.
Depending on the strategy of the day, she will tell one of us that we are ‘gorgeous’ and the other that they are a ‘dork’. I don’t care who you are; when a two-year-old tells you that you’re gorgeous, something inside you quietly believes they must know a deep universal truth. That they have a divine insight only allowed children. And if she’s got that ‘gorgeous’ bit right, then maybe there is something to her insightful ‘dork’ remarks. You begin looking sideways at the partner you once called ‘comrade’ and agree with her that, yes, he does look like a bit of a dork. And there it is – defeat. Team Parents divided and conquered.
You take for granted how perfect it all is before they begin to speak.
We used to sit around, and I would talk to her. She would smile, and I would talk. I would tell her about how I was feeling, how interesting my life was and how I saw the political landscape being shaped by current reforms. She would look at me and smile, and it seemed with her innocent grin that she was saying to me, ‘Gee, Mum, you sure are captivating. ‘
But now, my dreams have been shattered. The other day, I was singing to her, and she looked at me with that same perfect smile and said in a gentle, vaguely tortured whisper, “Stop it”.
In the wrong hands, language is dangerous. Don’t believe the hype. Reading is overrated. Speech can only be used against you. There should be government intervention in early childhood, with propaganda pumped into childcare centres and homes across the country. Don’t read your children colourful, hopeful, idealistic prose about bears finding flowers. Instead, let’s force upon our children literature about the rightful authority of parents, with words such as ‘respect’ and ‘gorgeous’.
Children should be taught only words that can be used positively, such as ‘Keep singing, Mum. You’re captivating,’ and ‘Wherever you lead, I shall follow’. Language is power. Cool man. Keep it real.
