This morning, I spent ten minutes in a sleepy just-woken-up fog, deciphering RR’s code language referring to two certain Kipper episodes.
“Mama, I want the one with the fernoceros. Or the one with the white pig.” She says.
Now, before I go any further, let’s all have a giant AWWWW for “fernoceros” … her word for rhinoceros. /awww
I was very tired. I sat on the ottoman mushing the PS3 buttons, navigating my way through the Kids Netflix. She blissfully sat in the giant armchair, cozied up with a pillow behind her back, covered in a blanket, sipping on a cup of milk.
I’m usually very good at this game. But fernoceros? (TWO fernoceroses, she clarifies.) White pig? Even if it wasn’t before 7am, I would have been stumped.
She’s learned how to say, “It’s working on it!” This is what we say to her when we’re trying to find a song, when the computer is loading, when one mama is anxiously whispering to the other, “Do YOU know what she’s talking about?”
Ten minutes of foggy hunting and fast-forwarding through the one’s she’s seen lately. Nope, not the eyeball. Not the green dragon, either. She’d, every minute or so, politely and patiently say, in between sips, “Not that one.”
But then I found one. Which led me to the other one. Bomb diffused. Phew.
Parents should get a fucking prize for sorting this stuff out. Seriously – the brain cells I’m using to figure shit like this out (and remember it for later) are totally bummed that they’re not doing complex math equations.