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.