flightless hag

A chronicle of the adventures of birdwoman: a lonely, talentless freak who wanders the internet in search of entertainment.

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Location: Philly

I'm a 40-something married white female, survivor of weight watchers, avid reader of pulp. Dogs (not cats), extreme right (handed, not politics), ENTJ, alto, wanna-be knitter.

August 07, 2005

What’s In A Name?

The Moth is two. He’s very two: he wants to communicate, but is challenged in his speech ability.

He can say daddy, mama, mee-moo (that’s grandma, for you non-speakers out there), day-wok (titus, our dog). But Sean escapes him. Whenever you would say “Say Sean,” the Moth would give a mutinous stare.

Until Mom (that’s me) screwed up.

I have a habit of calling my kids stupid nicknames. Boo (before it became a street nick), silly, hoppy, stinky… well, you can guess what one Tim picked up on. That’s right. Sean is now called Stinky (or rather, tinky) by his younger brother. No matter how many times I say SEAN, Moth agrees with STINKY

Now, in the house of birdwoman, you can randomly hear phrases like:
- No, Tinky, Mine!
- Stop, Tinky.
- Tinky, go.

Yes, the Moth is a bit of an authoritarian.

Last night was the funniest, though.

They were playing in the bathtu, having way too much fun, and splashing a lot. I wanted to end it. I say, “Timmy, you ready to get out?”

“No, Mama. Tinky turn.”

Not bad, for two year old logic!



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August 11, 2005 6:24 AM  

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