While Sara narrowly missed speech therapy at 18 months of age, when she finally did speak, her words were extraordinarily precise.  She may sound like Minnie Mouse, but darn if she can’t articulate with the best of them.  Kelly, on the other hand, rolled into her speech like a tornado.  Also late, but with a garbled fury few can match.  She decided what she lacked in clarity she would make up for in volume and word count.  We finally got her to turn down the volume, but she’s determined to use as much vocab per day as humanly possible.  If you can’t understand a word she says, sorry ’bout yo’ luck and join the club.

I spend a good part of the day deciphering, and that inevitably includes Sara pitching in to help.  But remember, Sara is 4.  She automatically assumes in any given day, she’ll hear several words for which she does not know the meaning.  Crazy words, such as “knick knack”, and “conifer”, and “damnit”.  My bad on that last one.  So she’s perfectly comfortable enunciating words that have NO MEANING WHATSOEVER, using the most pragmatic tone available to a 4 year old.

Kelly: I tan pined ma skeet box.

Mommy: You can’t find your skeet box?  Sara, what do you think she just said?

Sara: SKEET BOX Mommy.  Kelly can’t find her SKEET BOX.

I like how she SO CLEARLY ENUNCIATES it for me, like I’m their 90 year old Mother who doesn’t EVEN KNOW what a skeet box IS.  Jeez Mom, get with the times.

Kelly: I wanna eat da muster soot.  I tink eye-wa wost it.

Mommy: You want to eat muster soot?  What’s muster soot, and how could you lose it?

Sara: Muster soot Mommy.  MUUUUSSSSTTTTEERRR SOOOT. She lost it.  It’s OK Kelly, I’ll help you find your muster soot.

And off they trot, while I stand stunned, wondering if she meant mustard suit, and fearing that maybe she did.  I look at the clock, guesstimating how much of my day will be chewed up while cleaning up a suit made entirely of mustard.

At least Sara is finally conceiving of words.  She “gets” that letters string together to make words, and is now spending her day trying to guess her way through the maze of possibilities.  God forbid we try to go about it in a structured way.  I tried the whole cat, bat, sat thing, and she looked at me like I had stuck a fork in her ear and caused her mortal pain.  We’re now stumbling blindly through what I like to call, “Sara Phonics”.

Sara: Mommy, what does, “AFPDDDXY” spell?

Mommy: Nothing.  Not all letter combinations make words.  Only some do…so those letters don’t make a word.  For example, what do you suppose C-A-T spells?

Sara: I have absolutely no idea.  What does, “SFEPOY” spell?

Mommy:  Cat.  I spelled cat.  SFEPOY is not a word either.  (Knowing this conversation might go on all day.)

Sara: OK, then what does, “XYEOPTXF” spell?

Mommy: Muster soot.