Most children say their first word by the time they are 14 months old. By their second birthday, most children can say around 50 words. They’re not, however, great communicator.
There is still a great amount of guess work for parents, as you try to figure out what your toddler is trying to say to you. So, following on from the post 20 things babies would say if they could talk
Here are some things my toddler is trying to say:
- Yes, I said I wanted pasta. I watched you to prepare it, and now that it’s here in front of me, I’m saying I’d prefer soup. I changed my mind. I really don’t see what the problem is.
- I can tell from your smirk that you are not taking this very seriously, but those are NOT THE SOCKS I WANTED.
- I heard you say a bad word. Now I’m going to say it, over and over again. Thanks mum, you’re the best teacher.
- Stop trying to help me. I can do this all by myself. Yes, I like to wear my trousers as a hat. This is the look I am going for. STOP LAUGHING AT ME.
- Look at my face. I am not getting into that car seat without a fight. Want to see how loud I can scream?
- Yes, I offered you the paintbrush, but you weren’t meant to actually take it. Of course I’m crying. You have ruined painting for me. No, I don’t want the paint brush back, I want you to not take it in the first place! Today is RUINED.
- I feel I should warn you before we get to the playdate, I am in no mood for sharing today.
- Thanks for teaching me the words penis and vagina. I can’t wait to tell Grandma. And the neighbours. And the shopkeeper. I love impressing people with my new words. VAGINA!
- Yes, I can see it’s still dark out, but I am telling you, IT’S MORNING. Now get out of bed and come downstairs to assist me with my jigsaws.
- Who am I wearing? Well, me. I call this look a crown and some wellies. And yes, I plan to wear this out of the house today. No, I do not think my bum will get cold, thanks for asking.
- I really admire your persistence for a 7pm bedtime. It’s not happening though.
- Ha, that joke never gets old. Your bed, indeed. Now, both of you, adopt your nightly squashed-to-the-edge position while I starfish in the middle. Sweet dreams.
- What poo? In the middle of the living room floor? No, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nothing to do with me.
- If you don’t get up now, I’m going to be forced to use my special move on you. What move? The sit-on-your-head-with-my-bare-bum-move. Get up.
- I think you know as well as I do, that I need to take all of these sticks and stones home. It would be too hard to choose a favourite. Now open up your pockets, damnit.
- I know, I said I would walk, so you left the carrier and pushchair at home. I don’t know what to tell you, I’ve changed my mind. Now kindly carry me home.
- I have never been so humiliated in my entire life. How dare you tell your friends about the time I pooped in your bed. That was meant to be our little secret.
- No, I don’t want an apple. No, I don’t want any avocado. No, I don’t fancy a bowl of soup. Look, I’m going to save us both some time, hand over the crisps.
- What a stupid question. I am insulted. Can’t you tell that my drawing is a picture of a dog?
- We all have our vices, mum. You like to sneak chocolate in the laundry when you think I’m not looking. Yes, that’s right, I know you do that. And I like to play in the bathroom bin, now give me back that empty toilet roll and leave me in peace.