My Toddler is a Klingon
My 18-month old is speaking. Her mother & father are so proud of her! She makes complete sentences with proper grammer and punctuation and everything. But I swear she’s speaking in Klingon, ‘cause it ain’t the language spoken in our house. I surmise that she’s a reincarnation of a Klingon warrior because she is stout and brave and fears nothing. She proves her bravery on a daily basis by swan diving off the sofa or running head-long into solid wooden pews. She proudly displays her new black eye as a badge of honor.
Yesterday she waddled up to my while I sat at the computer, batted her big long eyelashes and said, “ 'ej pa'wIj lojmIt DamuptaHvIS tam Hoch, Dada”
Which I’d like to think meant “I like your singing very much, Father.”
Or maybe she said, “I smell stinky from my bottom region…time to change my diaper, mein Vater.”
But as far as I know little Bobo was reciting Edgar Allen Poe.
Sometimes I know she’s swearing. She and Deedle Dumpling have a Big Lego piece set. Bobo was attempting to assemble what appeared to be a Borg ship scale replica (my Bobo is indeed a Trekkie at a young age) and the last piece just didn’t want to cooperate and connect. “baQa' guy'cha Dor-sho-gha!” wailed my chubby little Bobo. She’s so cute with her face all scrunched like that.
However, it’s not so cute when she turns her Klingon wrath on the adults in the home. Driving home from the state fair the other day she was becoming restless in her car seat. Klingons evidently don’t like to be constrained. She whined and pulled futilely at the shoulder straps. I broke my concentration on the road and turned to her and lied, “it’s ok, Bobo, we’re almost home,” knowing full well we still had an hour on the road. She threw a glare at me that burned my eyeballs and let out, “mu'qaD qoH QI'yaH plaQta', yIntagh!!!!!”
Had she a qutluch handy I’m sure it would have been a good day to die for me.