A bogan by any other name

Its all about the words.

The past cupla weeks have seen the language quotient race forwards in leaps and bounds with seemingly a new word or three every day.

And ontop of that is the level of understanding - both ways.

Case in point. And case of "we're not quite getting all our words right just yet".

There we were having tea - an ever traditional Aussie meat and three (ok, five) veg.

"Jew!" said the boy, meaning juice...
So we gave him his water (even though he knows the word water, but who's to argue).
"Saw" said the boy, meaning sauce...
So against our better judgment we gave him some sauce; a drop on his meat sufficing.
"Towss!" said the boy, which ordinarily means toast.
Which was a problem.

"Errr... we have no toast Michael."

"TOWSSS!!"

"No... there's no toast here Michael. Perchance a carrot?"

"TOWWSSS!!!!!!!" he screamed, as he clenched his little fists of rage and started to quiver and spit phlegm like some manic third world dictator losing a valid UN-observed election, while gesticulating wildly in the direction of mums plate.

Mum offered him some steak. It was batted away.

"TTTOWWWS!!" (and more frustrated pointing).
Mum offered him some bread. He screwed up his face. Ectoplasm started to form...

"TTTTOOWWWWS!!!!!"
We were surely entering the popping a foofer-valve territory of frustration.

Mum looked past her plate and saw the only thing left on the table. Some butter.

"Butter?"

Acceptance.
Silence.
Joy.

"Errr... I think you meant butt (butter) Mike" suggested mum.
"Well i guess toast does have butter on it..." offered dad.
Mike just licked the Western Star off his bread.
And looked at his parents like they were idiots.

Having stated that his language is occasionally mixed in meaning, sometimes we're equally worried we've bred a pedant.

Once again, there we were having dinner, when the lad started making the "I'm full" motions.
(i.e., slapping his food instead of eating it and begging for a blueberry.)

Fair enough, dinner done.

"Put your plate on the table Michael" said dad.

Upon which Mike grabbed his plate, tipped it on end pouring the remaining foodstuffs all over his high chair tray with some overshoots onto the floor, and carefully placed the now-uncluttered-by-food plate on the table.
Then looked at dad with a job-well-done face.

"Well you did only say put the plate on the table" noted Mistress P.
Right you are.

This could become somewhat tiresome.

Almost as much as the current craze for the repeated use of the word "car".
Said when he sees one parked on the street.
In the newspaper (don't let him near the Drive section).
On the nappy box.
Printed on his shirt.
In the Green Eggs and Ham book - now that it a sign of intelligence; looks more like a mangled shoe with donuts for wheels.

Car; car; car; car.
(Which often means he's seen 4 cars - plurals are yet to be attempted.)

And if you dare let him inside one... well, he's like a pig in poo.
Lights on. Lights off.
Hazards on. Hazards off.
Mirrors swiveled.
Indicator stalk clicked.
Centre console emptied.
4WD engaged.
And door demanded to be shut...
"DDOOOOORRR!!!"

If you have followed previous posts, you'll now realise we have a chick-chasin, beer-swillin', pie+sauce munchin', hard-rock lovin', petrol-headed son.
Oh. My. Gawd.
We've bred a bogan.

Ok... finally, the Mike vocab, which we decided we'd better write down fast cos he's learning too many new ones to keep track of. Here goes...

mummy daddy nana papa home 'sgo! (lets go) dog cat pool bath kick towss (toast) jew ( juice) grace (grapes) saw (sauce) froo (fruit) goo (yoghurt) nana (banana) butt (butter) cheese sore zip cream suit telly bottle car-car-car door light light-on! butt (button) polly (the dog) book hi seeya bye bird lala (koala) no horsey kiss ear nose hair toe chin eye hug duck ball bear Jill Ray Paul Blair Mel Grace Archie Lily Jackie Goggle(Michael) shoe water peg mine sock park willy wee poo pen pa(plug) oww!(ouch) bin teeth beep-beep pea down uh-oh! towel ham hat oh-dear! bus bubby(baby) sha(sharp) too-wat!(too hot) two-three spoon fork all-gone!
= 90 words!

Did we also mention we're equally (well, almost) proud of his first wee in the loo??

Ok, just a few drips while sitting on the kiddie seat, but it counts. It hit the water. Its flowed off to Werribee and probably has a banded stilt wallowing in it as we speak.

His first toilet wee.

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