Moofing the tumbly, and other nonsense…

I’m not ashamed to admit I love babytalk.  Saul, Fig and I have a whole repertoire of our own family terms for things, which I know is completely normal and everyone does it – I guess the depth of the madness is judged not by the fact that we do it at all, but by the silliness of the words invented.  We have our favourites, and our most-used.  Pretty early on, Fig’s mouth became his moof.  This quickly became a verb: when mummy kisses him, thus putting her moof on him, she is moofing him.  See?  There’s grammatical logic.

We also have a lot of rhyme – his dum-dum goes in his moof; when he needs a nappy change, his ‘bum-bum needs doing’; and wind causes a tum-tum ache.  Although the latter recently spontaneously changed to a tumbly ache.  He also has leggy-peggies, and handy-pandies.  Hiccups are pesky things, and so have become just that – peskies.  When he trumps, Saul and I play Toot or Poop, and take it in turns to find out who has won that particular round… For some reason, I also seem to bring a lot of French into the talk I use with Fig: he is referred to almost without exception as bébé.  That’s when I’m not calling him Pookie or Pooks or Pooksniff, of course, which came from…where, exactly?  And talking of silly names, they too change with his nappy – The Scarlett Poopernel, Henry Poopinger, Truman Capoopy and Pooperman are all frequently used at the changing table.

I can’t wait till Fig starts talking himself and adds a rainbow of new words to our ever-expanding vocabulary.

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