To Thine Own Delf Be True

scissors.jpgEleanor has trouble pronouncing the letter s.  She pronounces it like a d, especially when it’s the first sound in a word.

“Mommy, I want some dissors.  To dip something.”  Translation: “Mommy, I want some scissors.  To snip something.”  This takes a little bit of extra processing on my part, and Brian’s, too.  We keep trying to correct her (“It’s ssssssnip, Eleanor,”) and she keeps trying to say it the right way (“ssssssDip”) but the going is slow.

The word we hear mispronounced most often is the word “self,” as in “I did it all by my delf!”  Eleanor has a habit of bragging about her independence at inopportune moments, too:

After kicking and squalling while being buckled into her car seat: “Mommy!  I got buckled all by my delf!”

Or, when we are pouring her some milk, and she suddenly grabs the jug, spilling milk everywhere: “I poured a drink all by my delf!”

Worst of all, when our toilet training efforts backfire: “Mommy!  I made a poopy in my diaper — all by my delf!”

Well, I guess it’s a good thing she didn’t actually need assistance doing that.  But still.

Brian and I have therefore been categorizing Eleanor’s growing independence in two ways.  First, there’s when she actually does something good by herself (like hanging up her coat on her hook, or setting the table.  Then there’s the stuff she does All By Her Delf.  And those are the moments that we are learning to fear.  I’m sure there will come a time when simply hearing the word “delf” won’t make my heart beat faster, but it hasn’t happened yet.  All I can do is have patience, pray, and hope she won’t drive me Indane.

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