The Oyster is my world
Jul. 30th, 2006 12:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
radegundI should've known that tagging an entry "oyster report" back in February would lead to my classic procrastination pattern: Oisín does something that I'd like to write about, but I think no, I'll wait until I'm writing the next Oyster report, and then I don't get around to it, and the Oyster report grows in my mind to unmanageable proportions, so that I can't possibly sit down to write it, because it would just take too long.
Eff that.
Here is the latest Oyster report, in the form of a random list of some things I want to remember (there's already so much I've forgotten).
1. Unny boony moony Naaah!
This means, roughly, "I, Oisín, would like a spoon of your muesli, Niall (and I am confident that you will supply same)".
2. No nap, no sleep!
This is his slogan at the moment. (Actually, he pronounces it "no map, no beep", but that's almost too cute to type.) Every day at around 10:30, Oisín begins to show unmistakable signs of tiredness. And every day, I put him in the buggy (or the car, if the situation is desperate - SHAME! SHAME!), and take him out for a long, long, long, long, long walk (or drive). The past few days, he's fallen asleep close to 13:00. I've learnt that it's best if I have some goal to accomplish, because then if the attempt fails I'll at least have (e.g.) bought Parmesan from the nice cheese shop in town, or had the fit of his shoes checked in the arrestingly named Cripps of Terenure. (If we drive, there can be no such goal. I can get him from the car to the buggy without waking him, but not the other way around, so there wouldn't be any point. I have learnt many wide circles around Crumlin and Walkinstown. We quite often stop for breastmilk by the side of the road.) Somewhere along the way, I usually crack and start trying to persuade him that he should go to sleep. "Nap-time now, darling," I say, brightly, and he shakes his head and cries "No! No nap, no sleep!" Some days he wins; some days I win. Some days mine is a Pyrrhic victory, because he falls asleep just as we get wherever we were notionally going, and sleeps until we get home, so I don't actually get a break (defined here as a few minutes sitting at home with my feet up, not interacting with anyone).
3. Speaking of breastmilk...
At first, "mama" meant "feed me milk". Then it began to mean me (which it still does), and breastmilk became "mih-mih" (a homonym of "penis", which amused me a bit). Cow's milk was "mih". Now that he's getting the hang of terminal consonants, breastmilk is "mama-muc" and cow's milk is "muc-a-geen-gah" (milk in a green glass).
4. Bee boo waahwee WUM-ma WUM-ma WUM-ma WUM-ma WUM-ma!
I get an enormous kick out of the fact that I can almost always interpret statements such as the above ("big blue lorry [going] vroom vroom vroom vroom vroom!"). I'm learning his language just as he's learning ours. He's making great strides: prepositions, articles, adverbs popping up all over the place. He said a magnificent sentence the other day, but I can't remember it now (see preamble).
5. Lateral thinking.
A couple of weeks ago, we were all sitting at table finishing our lunch, and he said "yigh bonna". This didn't seem to make sense in any context I could discern. I made a few guesses, but they were all wrong. He repeated the phrase, accompanied by a gesture I couldn't interpret. I tried "I'm sorry, love, I don't understand what you're saying. Can you show me?" He was getting a bit frustrated by this stage. Eventually he sighed, gave me a look that said, unmistakably, "OK, I KNOW you know this, but since you seem to be INSISTING on pretending to be THICK, I'll spell it out for you", and pointed to the ceiling, floor, window and door - making it obvious that he was asking for the song "Wind the Bobbin Up", which includes those actions. We hadn't sung that song in at least two months, probably more.
6. Memory.
I love his memory. Certain events or details strike him, and he tells me about them all the time. Our friend C went up the ladder to the top deck on the ferry to the Great Blasket. On the same trip, we met some donkeys, and our friend J fed them an apple. (This past week, he's been walking around the kitchen bobbing his head, being a donkey, and I feed him a green plastic ball.) The first time we went to the Dublin Food Co-op there was a dog who trotted beside us for some of the walk from the car, and then turned up a side street; every time we've been back he's pointed out "dog went that way". The other day he told me that Linnea had a tortoise on the front of her reins.
7. He'll be 2 in 23 days.
8. He is completely, completely fabulous, and I love him like a rock.
Eff that.
Here is the latest Oyster report, in the form of a random list of some things I want to remember (there's already so much I've forgotten).
1. Unny boony moony Naaah!
This means, roughly, "I, Oisín, would like a spoon of your muesli, Niall (and I am confident that you will supply same)".
2. No nap, no sleep!
This is his slogan at the moment. (Actually, he pronounces it "no map, no beep", but that's almost too cute to type.) Every day at around 10:30, Oisín begins to show unmistakable signs of tiredness. And every day, I put him in the buggy (or the car, if the situation is desperate - SHAME! SHAME!), and take him out for a long, long, long, long, long walk (or drive). The past few days, he's fallen asleep close to 13:00. I've learnt that it's best if I have some goal to accomplish, because then if the attempt fails I'll at least have (e.g.) bought Parmesan from the nice cheese shop in town, or had the fit of his shoes checked in the arrestingly named Cripps of Terenure. (If we drive, there can be no such goal. I can get him from the car to the buggy without waking him, but not the other way around, so there wouldn't be any point. I have learnt many wide circles around Crumlin and Walkinstown. We quite often stop for breastmilk by the side of the road.) Somewhere along the way, I usually crack and start trying to persuade him that he should go to sleep. "Nap-time now, darling," I say, brightly, and he shakes his head and cries "No! No nap, no sleep!" Some days he wins; some days I win. Some days mine is a Pyrrhic victory, because he falls asleep just as we get wherever we were notionally going, and sleeps until we get home, so I don't actually get a break (defined here as a few minutes sitting at home with my feet up, not interacting with anyone).
3. Speaking of breastmilk...
At first, "mama" meant "feed me milk". Then it began to mean me (which it still does), and breastmilk became "mih-mih" (a homonym of "penis", which amused me a bit). Cow's milk was "mih". Now that he's getting the hang of terminal consonants, breastmilk is "mama-muc" and cow's milk is "muc-a-geen-gah" (milk in a green glass).
4. Bee boo waahwee WUM-ma WUM-ma WUM-ma WUM-ma WUM-ma!
I get an enormous kick out of the fact that I can almost always interpret statements such as the above ("big blue lorry [going] vroom vroom vroom vroom vroom!"). I'm learning his language just as he's learning ours. He's making great strides: prepositions, articles, adverbs popping up all over the place. He said a magnificent sentence the other day, but I can't remember it now (see preamble).
5. Lateral thinking.
A couple of weeks ago, we were all sitting at table finishing our lunch, and he said "yigh bonna". This didn't seem to make sense in any context I could discern. I made a few guesses, but they were all wrong. He repeated the phrase, accompanied by a gesture I couldn't interpret. I tried "I'm sorry, love, I don't understand what you're saying. Can you show me?" He was getting a bit frustrated by this stage. Eventually he sighed, gave me a look that said, unmistakably, "OK, I KNOW you know this, but since you seem to be INSISTING on pretending to be THICK, I'll spell it out for you", and pointed to the ceiling, floor, window and door - making it obvious that he was asking for the song "Wind the Bobbin Up", which includes those actions. We hadn't sung that song in at least two months, probably more.
6. Memory.
I love his memory. Certain events or details strike him, and he tells me about them all the time. Our friend C went up the ladder to the top deck on the ferry to the Great Blasket. On the same trip, we met some donkeys, and our friend J fed them an apple. (This past week, he's been walking around the kitchen bobbing his head, being a donkey, and I feed him a green plastic ball.) The first time we went to the Dublin Food Co-op there was a dog who trotted beside us for some of the walk from the car, and then turned up a side street; every time we've been back he's pointed out "dog went that way". The other day he told me that Linnea had a tortoise on the front of her reins.
7. He'll be 2 in 23 days.
8. He is completely, completely fabulous, and I love him like a rock.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-07-30 06:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-03 09:46 pm (UTC)(My mother developed a pronounced lisp at the age of about five. Got taken to a speech therapist and everything. Eventually it emerged that there was a girl in her class with a lisp, and she thought it was cool...)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-07-30 08:21 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-07-30 08:22 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-03 09:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-03 10:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-07-30 10:14 am (UTC)Yay for Unny!
Must meet up soon.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-03 09:48 pm (UTC)We must. Absolutely. Will text you.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-07-30 01:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-07-30 05:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-07-30 07:16 pm (UTC)Wind the giant one, pull pull, crash crash crash.
Wind the tiny one, pinch pinch, tap tap tap.
I didn't know it before moving to England either. I don't think it's in common use in Ireland. My mother has a genuine wind-up spinning top though.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-03 09:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-03 10:00 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-03 10:11 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-03 09:51 pm (UTC)All of his presents from Berlin so far have ROCKED, to wit: 2 punk vests, a blue hoodie saying "Kreuzberg", and lovely child-sized cutlery, which he uses every day. (They're much nicer than the weirdly curved plastic-handled yokes I see in Dublin shops.)
So what I'm saying is, you can't go far wrong - oh, and also, thanks for considering getting him something :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-01 11:32 pm (UTC)it sounds like you're both doing very well. a lovely journal entry.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-03 09:54 pm (UTC)We're doing very well indeed - thanks :-)