Wednesday, April 13, 2011

The Languages Of My Love.

So, I hightailed it out of work yesterday. I've been worried that The Daughter has been coming down with a wee cold, you see. So wanted to get her home and snuggled into bed with her mom. (We're snugglers, are The Daughter and I. Like huge style.). But I think my desire to spend as much of my medical aid's savings on homeopathic antibiotics and vitamins (because it's the kind of shopping spree that makes me feel like I'm a proper adult without having to part with any cash) has started to pay off. Six different vitamins and immune boosters this morning and she was as chipper as a bottled bee.

The Daughter: Mom, when can I have a brother and a sister? (She feels she's waited long enough for sibling company and so I must just produce one of each, at the same time.)

The Pant: One day, my baby.

TD: Are my brother and sister going to speak English?

TP: I'm sure they will, Precious.

TD: Because if I have Afrikaans brothers and sisters then I won't understand them and then I won't know if they're hungry or thirsty.

TP: That's true. I'll order English brothers and sisters for you, okay?

TD: Okay. But if God doesn't have any English ones, I don't mind Zulu ones.

TP: Really?

TD: Ja. Because at least I can say 'hello' to them which actually means 'I see you' and you say, 'Sawubona.'

TP: Wow, my angel. That's very clever.

TD: (chuffed) I know.

TP: Where did you learn that?

TD: Aarrgghh Mom! (said with the tone of part disdain part irritation that one would use when speaking to a complete mental arthritic.) I know lots of things. They're in my brain.

TP: Okay. So when you go to big school and you have to choose another language to learn, which one are you going to choose?

TD: Um.... (pausing for thought - I had asked her a fairly important question.)... I think I'll choose American.

TP: But American is English.

TD: No it's not. Americans say 'yeah' instead of 'yes'. And they call jam jelly. And jelly jello.

(She did have a point.)

TP: That's true, my precious. But you can only do Zulu or Afrikaans.

TD: Hmmmmmm.... (with limited options, one really needs to consider one's choice carefully). I'll do bonehead.

TP: Pardon?

TD: You know, Mom. Bonehead. Same as rok.

TP: Where did you learn that?

TD: Uncle told me. He said Afrikaans is also called crunchie. But I think that's a chocolate.

So there you have it, folks. The Daughter's second language will be bonehead/rok/crunchie. A wise choice, I suppose, given that she's already proficient in Zulu.


  1. LOl! I just snorted out my cereal. Cant wait to see The Daughter again. No more sleeps Pant. xx

  2. Reeee! Serious Pig Squeal of Excitement.

    Happy days & safe travels, my friend.

    Get your shortest dress ready for a little bit of a razzle with The Pant xxx

  3. and what a great snuggle she is ... but tell me ... how much of that resulted from serious pedagogical exchange between the daughter and her white bear? .... and between her and her pirate?

  4. She's the best, White Bear. I think a fine team effort between White Bear, The Incubator and The Pant.


  5. team effort? team effort? what nonsense!!! the white bear's influence rendered that of you, pant, and the incubator, negligible. hail the white bear. he's the greatest. he's the supreme leader. fear and tremblilngy obey.