The Foreign Language of Kids

With kids, there is much for us to comprehend. There is much for us to understand beyond the expected (or accepted) social communication practices. I’m not talking about that babbling language that only the parents of the child(ren) in question can understand (although we’ve not been short of that over the years with our two), more the way in which our rugrats communicate, attempt to communicate, or awkwardly (and annoyingly) just pretend they’re communicating. This is often unbeknownst to their parents (and sometimes even themselves).

This is at least the case with my two children (far be it for me to speak to the experiences of other parents, after all), and it can be as charming as it is infuriating (but it does give me much inspiration when it comes to my writing). In fairness, the level to which they frustrate can often depend on my mood as much as anything else, but they just speak in Chinese Whispers so often (albeit, sometime my little girl is playing Chinese Whispers). They’ll voice their wants and needs so quietly, or sometimes the youngest will just lead me by the hand to her chosen destination, forcing me to guess at what she needs.  

My little girl seems to have been able to converse perfectly since I’ve known her, while my littlest girl is taking a while longer, but both of them leave me and their mum with our hands on our heads at least once a day (OK, that’s a rough estimate). We’ll wish to all that is holy that we owned a dictionary that makes their kooky kiddy language that bit more understandable. It’s all just so painfully unnecessary, like the ‘finish the sentence’ game my five-year-old likes to play. Only, it’s not meant to be a game; as she’ll just say a few words and then pause at one that barely has any business being followed by a comma, never mind a full stop. Then she’ll look at me as if to say “go on then, do as I command,” as I give her the most perplexed look.

My brain will be whirring, as I attempt to figure out what she wants while simultaneously worrying about whether my it has shut down at the end of her request. Eventually, I’ll give up and ask her to give me the request again: an enquiry that is met with the largest of huffs, like we’ve told her to eat a vegetable or that she needs to go to the toilet before a long car journey (a nightmare in our house). My littlest girl again has her own version of this, as she gets distracted halfway through putting her request in, usually by the TV or a toy. She’ll then be bemused when her wish does not become my command.

There is a Jekyll & Hyde nature to my little girl that she has carried from being a baby-come-toddler to that of a full-blown five-year-old teenager. She’ll frequently ask for something and look at me with such scorn when she receives it, and I’ll yet again be wondering if my brain is just not computing (although, my wife would say that this is a common occurrence). She’ll get cheese when she ‘wanted’ yogurt, for instance; at which point I’ll receive a facial expression so full of contempt, like I should have known she wanted yogurt; when she’d clearly asked for Double Gloucester. It’s a little more basic with my littlest girl, but the same concept applies. She’ll say no to a host of queries, until finally we’ll get a yes; only for her to display the exact same disdainful look as her sister when the chosen item is placed in her hand (often opened). It’s like they’ve decided to play ‘Opposite Day’ without telling me!

My little girl also likes to play this game where she’ll give me the first letter of an answer and expect me to guess what word she is thinking of; it’s such a time saver (that’s sarcasm, for those that didn’t get that). She especially likes to do this at bed time, just to avoid putting her head on the pillow for that little bit longer (this is just before she inevitably feels the first signs of dehydration, and the need for a sip of drink becomes as important as the need to breathe). It's a wonderful activity for when we’re late for some occasion or other (see the sarcasm again, my wife loves it!), and it doesn’t help that she has her dad’s speed of movement (yes, it’s not fast).  

Despite the difference in language levels that exist between the terrible twosome, I can swear they have their own secret way of communicating that me and their mum are not privy to. It’s a mischievous form of interaction that involves a lot of cheeky looks, grunts and the odd word (the meaning of which cannot be deciphered). They’ll then run off giggling to cause whatever mayhem they’ve decided on (or, more likely, what the eldest has decided on). It isn’t long before big sister is screaming however, as my littlest girl is playing in the wrong way (some rules are often unable to be understood by me either, to be fair). I’ll make my way to where the commotion is taking place, to find my little girl in mute mode, just pointing at her sister then looking away. Shortly after, however, they’ll be back to it, teaming up against me as they play together and start again with their little gestures that I cannot grasp at all.

By Calum Dewsbury.