Recently in my daily parenting reading obsession, I came across an article about talking to infants. It told readers to narrate your daily life to increase the baby’s vocabulary. I automatically wondered what my life would sound like narrated, by Clive Owen (my narrator of choice): (Mr Owen’s voice) “She slowly opened the cabinet and reached for the three-pound jar of peanut butter. She sighed as she spread the PB on her piece of whole wheat white bread, realizing it was the 82nd day in a row she had made this exact lunch decision.”
I already talk to the babe a ton already, but after reading this article, I decided to step up my game. I soon came to the conclusion that narrating your life can sure make life interesting. Here’s a few phrases the little one heard on a recent trip to the grocery store:
“Yippee! There’s a sale on Kraft singles! Aren’t these like Twinkies and have an expiration date of ‘eternity?’ Hopefully, because we’re buying a few packs. I wonder if these work like garlic…because if so…I might start smelling like processed cheese.”
“Mom needs cloves to make applesauce cookies. What?! Seven dollars for ground cloves? They must be filled with some secret addictive drug for that price. That’s it, from here on out, our applesauce cookies are getting seasoned with cinnamon, nutmeg, and crack.”
What I found to be interesting about letting my internal monologue come out (other than the weird looks and death threats), was how much I had to censor myself. It’s a good thing too, because the last thing I need done is to be slapped upside the head with cold cuts for letting some of my inner thoughts slip out. Although, I guess as I was being beat down by thinly sliced salami I could narrate: “Oscar Meyer has a way with B-O-L-O-G-N-A.”
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