Focket!

Did you know it is impossible to make the 'p' sound (you know, puh), while wearing a wide grin on your face? Try it...I'll wait...

Didn't work, did it? Sounded like 'fuh', didn't it?

Wanna know where I learned that?

No, not in speech therapy, and not in a linguistics class. My son taught me this, in all his two years of teaching experience...(yeah, yeah, yeah...don't laugh. I probably learned more from him during those first two years than I ever learned in two years any where else.)...but I digress...

He was a busy-minded boy...still is, come to that, and he studied everything he saw from day one. At the time of this particular lesson, he was working on language. He loved to learn new words. At any item for which he didn't know the term, he'd ask, "Mommy, what's dis?" We went through this all day long sometimes.

One morning we were getting him dressed for his trip to day care. We had just got his shorts and t-shirt on, and I was hurriedly working on the socks and shoes, afraid I'd be late for work. He looked down at his purple shirt and pointed to the little patch over his chest. "What's dis, Mommy?"

"That's your shirt. You know that," I said. He'd learned that word a long time ago.

"No, Mommy," he said,exasperated, grabbing the entire patch in his pudgy fist, "DIS!"

"Oh! That," I said, finally catching a clue ( just haven't been the same since I had those kids, you know...I think it's from the doctors installing the eyes in the back of my head.), "That's your pocket."

"Oh. A pocket?"

"Yes, a pocket."

He practiced it a bit, rolling it over in his mouth, getting used to the feel of it. When he had it down pat, he positively beamed with pride that he had learned yet another word. "Mommy, look," he grinned, pointing at his chest, "focket!"

I gasped, thinking of the obvious connotations. "No, no, no. Not focket, pocket."

But it was a lost cause. He was entirely too pleased with himself to keep from grinning. He bounced around the house shouting, "FOCKET! FOCKET! FOCKET! I HAVE A FOCKET!"

I was frazzled and running a little late, so this was a battle I chose not to fight right then. He did calm down for the ride to the daycare center, so I didn't have to listen to him shout it all the way there. However, I knew he would have to show his new word off to all the providers and other kids at daycare. So...I took him inside and signed him in. I didn't have time to explain the whole thing, so I told the woman at the front desk, who was also the manager, "No matter WHAT you think he's saying today, TRUST me, he's not swearing; he's saying POCKET."

She gave me a quizzical look and said, "Pocket?"

"Yes," I said, "Pocket. You'll see," and I was out the door.

After my shift was over, I stopped back at the center to collect my busy boy and go home. The manager saw me from across the room and made a point to come and talk to me. All she said was ,"I know what you mean."
He must have overwhelmed her with his favorite new word all day. Well, at least she got a warning; I didn't.