At dinner tonight, my 3-year-old son said, “HEY! I have a rocket in my pocket!” My husband, guest-for-dinner brother, and I just looked at each other like did he really just say that?!
I asked the kid to repeat it and he said again, a little too proudly, “I HAVE A ROCKET IN MY POCKET!!!!”
Yep. We heard him correctly.
My mind was spinning: where would he have learned something like that?! Does he understand what he’s saying?! He was at his grandmother’s all day today…could she be to blame?! Doubtful. The woman doesn’t like him to say pee or poop, she’s certainly not teaching him this kind of stuff.
As if the rocket weren’t enough, the kid follows up with, “I yike (like) to dance naked!”
My brother couldn’t let this one go and inquired: “How do you keep the rocket in your pocket if you’re dancing naked?”
Thankfully the toddler didn’t bite: “Nooooo Uncle Mike! I yisten (listen) to John Mellencamp’s “Dance Naked.”
And we thought modern music was a bad influence.
But back to the problem at hand: the rocket.
My mom brain was firing on all synapses and it hit me! The adorable child with the adorable speech impediment who can’t pronounce his Ls, among other letters, wasn’t saying “rocket,” he was saying, “wocket” as in…
WHEW! Innocence restored.