Wadi Melk Biper
N'no.
Wadi Melk Biper is not the name of a Scandinavian pop band.
(Wait... I suppose it could be...)
Those are 3 of her latest words.
My daughter.
She likes to bathe in the wadi and also drink the wadi and sometimes she drinks the wadi that she bathes in and I shake my head and say "N'no! Sayler don't drink the bath wadi!" But she continues to splash and slurp the bath wadi while I take stock of my parenting skills.
And in addition to the wadi she loves a nice cold sippy cup o' melk. And the melk is not the 1 percent or 2 percent but totally 100 percent whole melk and it's the expensive Horizon Organic brand even though mommy and daddy can't understand how that melk is like, 6 dollars.
But the non-organic has mommy worried about her daughter ingesting steroids. Because then the image on Arnold Schwargen.... (can't be arsed to look it up...) comes to mind.
My daughter on 'roids.
Not cool.
And the biper is what goes on to prevent accidents. It can either be wet or can be orange level, terrorist threat-status. Mommy doesn't mind the wet bipers and often-times feigns ignorance when she delegates changing of the biper to daddy. ("Oh, it was poop? I thought she just peed..."
And there are so many more cute words like 'nose' and 'mouth' and then there is the word that I will go straight to Hell for.
My daughter has a curse word in her vocabulary.
I can't tell you the word because I am so humiliated and I have only myself to blame.
My husband doesn't curse.
The family that raised me doesn't curse.
And yet somewhere deeply embedded within my quasi-classy being is a very angry truck driver.
(His birthin' name is Earl but his truck'n buddies call'm "Chesty"... it's a long sturry).
Earl's been resistent to leave, despite all the dollars I'm losing to Sayler's piggy bank.
So my daughter's non-cursing father and I have tried to spin the word into something similar but cute and harmless.
We're waiting for the new version to stick.
In the meantime, I cringe when I hear her say that bad, filthy word when she's royally frustrated (Kudos to her for using it in the right context, damnation to me that she uses it.... at all.)
I need to work harder on getting Earl out of my life.
Granted, my jokes won't be as funny.
The chola inside of me won't come across as frightful without her threatening vocabulary.
But somewhere next to the spot that Earl farts in is a mommy that loves her baby and wants her baby to not say that nasty, filthy, heinous word ever. again. (Unless it's imperative to a punch-line which mommy totally understands...)
Wadi Melk Biper is not the name of a Scandinavian pop band.
(Wait... I suppose it could be...)
Those are 3 of her latest words.
My daughter.
She likes to bathe in the wadi and also drink the wadi and sometimes she drinks the wadi that she bathes in and I shake my head and say "N'no! Sayler don't drink the bath wadi!" But she continues to splash and slurp the bath wadi while I take stock of my parenting skills.
And in addition to the wadi she loves a nice cold sippy cup o' melk. And the melk is not the 1 percent or 2 percent but totally 100 percent whole melk and it's the expensive Horizon Organic brand even though mommy and daddy can't understand how that melk is like, 6 dollars.
But the non-organic has mommy worried about her daughter ingesting steroids. Because then the image on Arnold Schwargen.... (can't be arsed to look it up...) comes to mind.
My daughter on 'roids.
Not cool.
And the biper is what goes on to prevent accidents. It can either be wet or can be orange level, terrorist threat-status. Mommy doesn't mind the wet bipers and often-times feigns ignorance when she delegates changing of the biper to daddy. ("Oh, it was poop? I thought she just peed..."
And there are so many more cute words like 'nose' and 'mouth' and then there is the word that I will go straight to Hell for.
My daughter has a curse word in her vocabulary.
I can't tell you the word because I am so humiliated and I have only myself to blame.
My husband doesn't curse.
The family that raised me doesn't curse.
And yet somewhere deeply embedded within my quasi-classy being is a very angry truck driver.
(His birthin' name is Earl but his truck'n buddies call'm "Chesty"... it's a long sturry).
Earl's been resistent to leave, despite all the dollars I'm losing to Sayler's piggy bank.
So my daughter's non-cursing father and I have tried to spin the word into something similar but cute and harmless.
We're waiting for the new version to stick.
In the meantime, I cringe when I hear her say that bad, filthy word when she's royally frustrated (Kudos to her for using it in the right context, damnation to me that she uses it.... at all.)
I need to work harder on getting Earl out of my life.
Granted, my jokes won't be as funny.
The chola inside of me won't come across as frightful without her threatening vocabulary.
But somewhere next to the spot that Earl farts in is a mommy that loves her baby and wants her baby to not say that nasty, filthy, heinous word ever. again. (Unless it's imperative to a punch-line which mommy totally understands...)
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