(I was tempted to call this post “Toddlers are stupid,” but that wouldn’t be nice, and also it doesn’t take into account the kind of intelligence it takes to climb up on the counter and eat butter with a steak knife. The stupid kind of intelligence.)
Yesterday my friend gave me a bar of soap, imprinted with a snowflake, that looks like a piece of fancy white chocolate, and I just knew my kids were going to think it was candy. So as soon as Hazel saw it I told her, “This is icky.” But it turns out that in Hazel’s vocabulary, “icky” is the abbreviated form of a longer word, so she kept repeating, “Ickypoo, ickypoo,” under her breath.
Then just now Hazel showed me a small sodden piece of tissue in her hand, so I hurriedly followed her into the bathroom. The door and toilet had been left open by some (stupid) child who had also forgotten to flush. Before I could stop her, Hazel placed her hand, with its sodden tissue, into the toilet water. “No, Hazel!,” I cried, “Ickypoo! Ickypoo!” She just looked at me like I was crazy, and then screamed and writhed as I flushed the toilet, washed her hands with soap, escorted her out of the bathroom, and closed the door.
You would think it wouldn’t be hard to learn the nuances of the word “ickypoo,” but in Hazel’s case you’d be wrong.