Last night stormchaser was playing a PS2 game. A snowboarding racing type game. Misskid3 was watching him play while I was working on a baby blanket. Stormchaser was doing ok at the beginning of the game, but all the other ( computer ) players passed him when he wiped out.
What I heard misskid3 say: Dad, them all bastards.
What misskid3 really said: Dad, them all faster.
I had to ask her what she said. She explained to me they all passed him because they were all “paster”. Her “f” sounds come out like “p” sounds, which I heard as a “b” sound last night.
Any one else ever mishear their kids?
My daughter requests to “count” things. Her pronunciation leaves me feeling :o every time since she tends to leave out the “o” in there.
I was prepared for fork but not for count.
Not exactly a “mis-hear” as more of a misunderstand.
We were babysitting my niece the other day, and decided that she’d been good enough to warrant popping a movie into the VCR and settling in (read: we were tired of watching how much she could hop). So I asked her what she wanted to watch: “Finding Nemo?” “Shrek?” “Cartoons?”
“No!” she exclaimed, “I wanna watch one of the movies in Mommy and Daddy’s closet!”
My wife and I exchanged looks. “Um. Uh, what movies would those be Sugarplum?”
“They’re on the top shelf of Daddy’s closet! I’ll show you!”
Oh bugger.
How to explain to a 4 year-old-kid that she might not like those movies? Worse, how to explain it to her if she does? I trek along slowly behind her, completely dreading the moment when I’d have to dig through my sister and brother-in-law’s porn collection and explain that “Citizen Came” is not particularly kiddie fare.
We enter the walk-in and she points to three videos on the top shelf. Wallace and Gromit looked back down at me, snug in their cases, completely and unreservedly kid friendly.
“Why sure thing Sport! Let’s watch Wallace and Gromit! Heck! Let’s watch all three of them! Fun for everyone! Whoopee!” And off we went to giggle ourselves senseless at Wallace’s wacky adventures.
Turns out, the tapes had been placed out of the way as an object lesson after said niece had a meltdown and refused to let a friend watch the tapes 'cause they were “hers.” Mom and Dad had explained that sharing was something big kids did, and since, technically, the tapes were theirs and not hers, they weren’t going to share them with her until she called up her friend and apologized for her behaviour.
But I sure was concerned for a few minutes.
My wife’s much-younger brother had a bit of a speach problem when we were first going out, his “tr” noise came out as “f”. And the first time I met her family, he spent quite a bit of time telling me about his brother’s “truck over by the fence”.
-lv
My older son, when he was about two, went through a phase of “inside-outing” words, where he took the middle sound and put it at the front or back. He wanted to ride on our shoulders a lot at that point, too, and would stand and yell, “ASHOLE! ASHOLE”
In another case - his words were correct but his sense of what is appropriate was right up the twist - he was about the same age.
My (rather strait laiced) parents were visiting, and my Dad was sitting in the back of the car with the lad. Suddenly he started saying “Grampa, grampa, look at my willy! It’s standing up!” Grampa just coughed and suggested it might get cold. “But it likes the cold air, it’s HOT!”
Grampa decided to ignore the little snakelet, and tried to look out of the window, but for the next ten minutes my son was saying “But LOOK Grampa, its standing up ALL BY ITSELF!” and then finally, in a very disappointed tone of voice, “Oh, it’s gone all small now…and you didn’t look.”
I suppose I should have come to Grampa’s rescue and told Little Brit to put it away, but I was sitting in the front, laughing too hard!
When a friend and I were in school together, in the same class, the teacher was telling everyone one of those routine stories about how she chopped her brother’s finger off with an axe, so she could see it sewed back on with a laser.
She had just gotten to the part where the bloody digit was being put in a hankerchief by her parents. Then, she put in a dramatic pause for all the squeamish folk to leave the thread because I can’t do spoilers, and continued.
“Suddenly, the finger slipped out of the hankerchief and fell onto the kitchen floor, and before anyone could do anything, the cat ate it!”
At this point, my friend descended into the biggest fit of hysterics ever seen (along with the rest of us, might I add). When we finally recovered, he was still doubled over with laughter. Eventually, after he managed to contain himself, he turned to me and enquired, “Why do you think they had a cow in the kitchen?”