the girlfriend

Two weeks from today, Jordan will begin her journey into the glorious age that is two. While her temperament is already occasionally flavored with the stereotypes that accompany this age bracket

she really is mostly so much fun, and I wanted to commemorate a few of the things that she's been saying (saying!! woot!) that have had me and Sean roffling. 

Jordan has a hilarious and actually kind of selective speech impediment. As of right now, she can't really say her k's and ck's. This is most amusingly manifested when she's pointing out "truts" on the freeway, when she wants to "rea boots" to me, and when she sees my brother smoking and thinks it's "yutty, ew, yutty." But then she has no problem saying "ok mom" or "okie dokie dad." So...?? She also may have a slight English accent. She always wants to hold Hans in the car, and it took me a moment to realize that she wasn't looking to embrace some blond German dude straight out of Die Hard, but to endearingly interlace fingers with me.

Jordan is not a woman of much tact.

The other day Sean brought her in to bed to cuddle with us in the morning, and she went straight for my shirt, lifted it up, pointed at the belly button that is now flesh with the rest of my prodigious stomach, and said frankly "ew Mommy." Then when playing affectionately with my hair a few days ago, while my dad looked on, she decided her grandpa needed some special scalp treatment too. She reached and pulled his hat off, explored his head and turned it in different directions looking and failing to find enough hair to gather into a handful, and promptly informed him: "uh oh Papa." 

If you're a mother, then I think you're probably familiar with the sense of utter triumph that comes with successfully deciphering what your toddler is trying to convey, when the word doesn't sound really remotely like the real deal. Jordan is very intuitive about knowing that she's babbling her own speak that I won't be able to understand, and knowing when she's trying her hand at a real human word that I say on the daily. Meaning: she repeats and repeats and repeats with never-changing inflection until I successfully translate. I recently put a plate of barbecued chicken in front of her and she machine gunned "yoss! yoss! yoss! yoss!" while pointing emphatically at the fridge. Guys, I was at a loss. What the flip is yoss? So I gumshoed my way through the indicators: bbq chicken, fridge, Jordan's affinity for...bbq sauce. I was so proud of myself for figuring this one out. The kid wanted sauce. Just like she really likes playing "yide" which is outside, so apparently y's pass for s's around these parts.

Jordan's first full sentence was "I don't want to" (which sounded more like eyeohawnto but the meaning was clear) which was kind of a bummer, yet characteristically toddler, of a first sentence to have spoken to me. But I find that Jordan wants a lot more than she doesn't want (also characteristically toddleresque). "I wah rea." "I wah my shoesies." "I wah yoss." "I wah beats (beach)." "I wah beenty (binky - still haven't successfully weaned. Don't judge me.)" The sentences are coming along just fine...now that she knows what "want" means.

on a "wot" (walk) with dad in new "shoesies" and leftover ketchup "yoss" on her face from her scrambled eggs breakfast

I think what cracks me up most about this stage is the calculation and frustration that accompanies the endeavors to pronounce things correctly. There are some words that Jordan just flat out can't wrap her tongue around, simple as they seem. L's are insurmountable. My brother Luke and sister Liv are greeted with a diplomatic and trailed off "hi!...." where everyone else gets their names (botched renditions though they may be) attached to the salutation.

There is also a very deliberate spacing of words at this particular point in her speech development. Jordan pauses for effect between each term, maybe to make sure we're comprehending? Beer is "daddy...shewsh (juice)"; when we go on family wots together she needs to hold both "mommy...hahn" and "daddy...hahn"; and I am given fair warning upon diaper change commencement that she has "yutty...poops, mom." How considerate.

But without a doubt, the winner is a newly acquired phrase that flies in the face of her prejudice against the letter L. Guess what Jordan just told me the other day. "Luhlu, Mom."

I luhlu too Jordan.

I really do.