Robbie understands everything that we say. Even when we don’t want him to. Actually, especially when we don’t want him to. So, it’s started. Spelling. There are certain words we can’t really say. Like “o-u-t-s-i-d-e”. Or “L-e-y-l-i”, the little girl who lives downstairs. Particularly, “c-a-k-e”.
We didn’t realize that we needed to be spelling regularly until dinner tonight. Robbie was desperately trying to tell Justin something that Justin couldn’t figure out. Being Mom, I knew what Robbie was saying and translated. “Open. Turn. Outside. Leyli.” For those of you not fluent in two-year-old, Robbie wanted Justin to open the backyard so he could have a turn playing outside with Leyli.
Except Robbie understood what I said and thought I was giving him permission to go outside and play – which I most certainly wasn’t. It was bath time. And I had things to do after he went to bed, like write a lesson plan, finish reading Hunger Games, and write a blog. So, we reverted to spelling with Robbie running around looking very confused and horribly disappointed that he was not going to get a turn.
So, I think we’re safe for now. At least until Robbie figures out that letters are put together to form words. And he already knows that E-l-m-o spells Elmo…
She's One of "Those" Moms 
Note to Mom: This post reminds me of an occasion on the eighth grade corridor of our middle school when moms with young children managed classrooms of young teens. Near year’s end (May? June?), one teacher/mom was speaking with another teacher in front of one of those big lugs that enjoys getting extra help by attending in-school suspension classes. I do not recall the topic of conversation; however, I do most definitely recall that teacher/mom was said to have said, “This (whatever the topic was) S-U-C-K-S” in an effort to spare the lad her foul mouth. I only wish that I had been present to see the young man’s face; as I recall, the teachers got much mileage out of the story for a week or more. The lesson? Always consider your audience.