Colorful Language

Though he isn’t quite two, Erik has been quite the chatterbox for awhile now thanks to the daily influence of two very vocal 3-year-olds (his sister and our Nanny’s daughter). His newest language obsession has been to ensure that no noun goes without an adjective. Specifically a colorful one.

Stealing Marie's
brown sunglasses

For example, last night he wanted to wear his green crocodile pajamas and climb in bed with his blue hippo nene (blanket) and take a drink of his white milk from his blue and green and yellow lion cup (followed by a roar for the lion).

Erik running to throw a tantrum after Marie
reclaims her brown sunglasses

He (and the girls) have also come up with random nonsense words that for some reason strike them as particularly hilarious…especially when used as insults. In the past week I have been called a ‘buka’, a ‘doodie’, a ‘gook,’ and a ‘noot,’ and while I’m not sure what the difference is between each of these particular offenses, hurling such insults at me sends them into uncontrolled fits of giggling.

The icing on the cake of colorful language came this morning. It began as usual when Erik woke up and put on his blue and red and white crocs, then sweetly complimented me on my brown pony (hair tie) and purple toe polish, as he told me he liked them both very much. At breakfast he narrated each move as he climbed up in his green big boy chair and put on his green and yellow lion bib (followed by a roar for the lion), then thanked me for giving him his brown and yellow cereal squares in his yellow big bowl along with his green and blue and a little bit white dinosaur cup (followed by a roar for the dinosaur). But then I had the pleasure of watching the little gears in his brain work like never before as he tried to figure out what to call his orange juice. Was it orange orange juice? Or just orange juice? Or was it green orange juice since it was orange juice in his green cup? He spent a good five minutes wondering which of the three it could be, then finally moved on from such an earth-shattering question to whimper over the brown and yellow cereal square that had fallen to its fate over the side of his chair. Sadly, I fear the world will never know… 

To call it Orange juice? Or orange orange juice?
That is the question.