(With apologies to Sting and The Police for the shameless riff on “De Do Do Do” lyrics)
De goo goo goo, de ga ga ga
Is all I want too say to you
De goo goo goo, de ga ga ga
Your innocence will pull me through
De goo goo goo, de ga ga ga
Is all I want too say to you
De goo goo goo, de ga ga ga
They’re meaningless and all that’s true
Time for another round of “True Confessions.”
I hereby and duly confess that I am a both a wordsmith and a word snob. Hey, it’s my job! My ability to provide for the care and comfort of the beasties is directly proportional to how well I can convince clients that I exhibit a command and mastery of the English language. (Blog posts aside – I don’t get PAID for those LOL)
As a happily childfree chick, I escaped the “goo goo, ga ga” baby talk indoctrination, and I have secretly snorted scornfully at the piffle people prattle to their pets, partners and progeny.
Puhleeeeze, why insult their intelligence with all that gibberish?
Well, now I know.
Just LOOK at that face!
::squeeeeeeeeeeee::
After spending the first several months of Newt’s liver shunt diagnosis with him practically living over my heart while snuggled in his sling, and his darling little smile and brilliant copper eyes gazing back at me, I found my ability to communicate changing.
Devolving into smaller sound bytes, tiny tidbits of the most elementary components needed to convey basic meaning. Morphing into a new language – a dizzying, kitten-smitten shorthand.
It’s still English.
More or less.
Him ALWAYS has him happy face, yes him do!
Him mummy’s seepy baybay. Seeeeeeepy New New.
Pookie poopy in him box; good Pookie!
Cat Daddy, Schnookie hunnnnggggeeeee boy. Him TARVIN’!
New New ate ALLLL him din-dins! Himz mummy good widdle boy, yes him is!
Your innocence will pull me through, indeed.
