D is for Discorrect?

This last week we’ve been tending my cousins while their parents went to Italy. It’s been a lot of fun, but it has also made me grateful that children only come one at a time (at least usually). Going from one child to seven children overnight has been an interesting stretch. The kids have been great, but they have a lot going on. And they are quite the bunch. Sammy, the youngest, is a hoot all by himself. He’s in kindergarten, so we get to spend the whole afternoon with him. But Sammy is not your typical five-year old. He is a bundle of energy and creativity, extremely verbal and a barrel of laughs. Take today, for example. We were driving to the zoo and Sammy was playing with a rubber band in the back seat, twisting it around his fingers to make different patterns and shapes. After a while, he made what almost looked like the letter “D.” Here is the dialogue that followed:

Sam: Look! I made a “D” with my rubber band.

Anna: What starts with “D”? (Editor’s note: Remember that Sam is in Kindergarten so this should be a pretty typical question. The answer we expected was something like dog, or maybe donut.)

Sam: Discorrect.

Anna: Discorrect?

Sam: Yeah discorrect . . . or uncorrect . . .

Justin: Or incorrect?

Sam: Yeah, or basically, “you’re wrong."

Anna was driving at the time and it was all she could do to stay on the road because she was laughing so hard. What five-year old comes up with “discorrect” as the first word that starts with “D”? Suspending the fact that “disconnect” may not be a word, or at least a typical, dictionarified word, I was pretty amazed that he was able to go from “discorrect” to “uncorrect” to (with a little help) “incorrect” and then was able to explain what all of those words meant, or would mean if they were words. So, here’s my question: if you could add a word to the English language, what would it be?

Feeding Joshua

Call me a softy (some of you will not hesitate at all), but feeding Joshua has become one of my favorite things to do. There’s something deeply and yet so simply good about feeding another person. Of course this extends to having people over to dinner and other ways of sharing food, but there’s something special about feeding a baby who can’t feed himself. I don’t think I enjoyed feeding Joshua early on nearly as much as I do now. That might have something to do with the middle-of-the-night nature of those early feedings. Or it might be because I was quite sleep-deprived, especially during those first few weeks. (I know that Anna had it much worse than I did, but my sleep was much more spotty than it had ever been before). I also think that Joshua has become much more fun to feed as his personality has, well, arrived (or developed). Infants are adorable— don’t get me wrong. But in my limited experience, they don’t do all that much or express themselves very much at all. The occasional smile was usually a result of passed gas, or something to that effect. As Joshua has started to smile, respond, and babble, he has become a lot more fun. And that includes when he eats.

Today, for example, I fed him squash, cereal, banana/strawberry puree, and milk. I like to eat, but Joshua definitely wins our “enjoyment while eating” contest. Every spoonful he swallows, he emits this joyful “mmm,” after which he opens his mouth and waits, somewhat impatiently, for the next mouthful. Again, I am not a picky eater—there are very few things that I don’t like—but I can’t imagine trying to even fake that amount of ecstasy from a mouthful of squash (even if it was excellently prepared), let alone from the bland squash that seems to tickle Joshua’s palate. Anytime I need some reassurance, feeding Joshua fruit is sure to give it. And if I really needed a boost, all I would need to do is give him something with a little sugar and/or fat—French silk pie, ice cream, pudding, as hypothetical examples—and I would immediately feel like the most wonderful person in the world. Or at least like the person who wields the most amazing spoon in the world.