Freeze-Frame: Two For the Price of One (And One is Just for You, Abigail)

Lucky you, you get TWO freeze-frames for the price of one. Tadhg's spitting out funnies at a fast clip these days, and this is a good place to catch it all for remembering when I'm old and gray and he's a big strapping man. 

There was a time several weeks ago when I was afraid I wasn't going to be able to hear all of the amusing things running through his head any more; literally overnight, he went from clearly articulated speech (for a 2-year old) to a severe stutter which significantly impeded his ability to communicate. After researching it a bit and talking to a speech-language pathologist friend, I learned that such things can and do indeed happen; they can last for just a short while or for years. Because Rundy had a stutter when he was a child, I was buckling down and trying to prepare myself for this to become our new normal. But, boy, was it hard to hear Tadhgie struggle so much with things that used to just float right out without thought. One day driving home in the van, he was trying to tell me something and stumbled over himself so thoroughly that he finally gave up and just said glumly, "I can't use my words." Poor guy. 

But--thankfully for all of us, Tadhg most particularly--his stutter vanished in the same mysterious, overnight fashion in which it had arrived. After two weeks just about on the dot, he was speaking like his old self. 

And now we can all still enjoy a hearty supply of anecdotes. 

FREEZE-FRAME #1 (For Abigail in Memory of Our Dear Old Dad)

Tadhg has a propensity for worry/caution/safety which he comes by honestly. Some of it was taught ("Stay away from the road," for example) and some of it just spills out of him by sheer heredity. Both Rundy and I have some worrier in us, but the Grandpappy of All Worriers was my dad. Tadhg definitely inherited some good old fashioned Gary Johnson tendencies.

The other day as we were eating breakfast he was staring fixedly up at the vaulted ceiling in the kitchen. There are boards suspended in air spanning the length of the whole kitchen; from these hang our light fixtures and onion plaits. (Eventually, Rundy will be covering the boards with old barn wood to make it look like a faux beam.)

Tadhg, looking intently at the someday-faux-beam, suddenly said, "I think Daddy did a good job nailing that up."

Pause.

"I hope he did so it does not fall on us."

FREEZE-FRAME #2

One of the most curious things about having a child whose mind and capacity for language are growing like weeds is the fact that sometimes they say things and you have absolutely no idea how they appropriated the vernacular they just used.

Current favorite example?

We were just sitting down to eat supper. Rundy was filling Tadhg's plate. He asked Tadhg if he wanted some more sauce on his rice to go with his chicken. 

Soberly, Tadhg replied, "No, because I'm a very simple man."