Being a parent is hard work. It's also rewarding and fun. Scott and I always knew that we would never talk 'baby talk' to the boy. We never used baby voices and while out in public, we would point things out to him and tell him what they were. He was a great communicator even before he could talk. For instance, when he was thirsty, he would say, "Ninga ninga ninga." Thirsty. When he was hungry, he would say, "Ninga na, Ninga na." I knew what he was trying to say. Then, he started really talking and he hasn't shut up since. :)
One day, Scott decided that it would be oh, so fun to teach him the WRONG names for different food items. Honey came in bear shaped bottles, so it became known as "bear poop." The boy loved honey on his cheerios, so every time we would give him Cheerios (with milk) he would ask for bear poop. Mmmm...appetizing.
My dear sweet husband loves sugary cereal. Cap'n Crunch is his favorite. He would hold up the box and say, "want some turds?" Good times. The boy would sit in his high chair, point to the top of the refrigerator (where I kept the cereal) and say, "I want turds! I want turds!" Oh, this is just great!
Fast forward to the time my sister-in-law came to visit. She came with her baby in tow. I think the boy was 2 1/2 because I just started working at a daycare/preschool, so she offered to keep him at home with her. When I got home, she looked at me and said, "Please tell me what the heck 'bear poop' is! I pointed to everything in that kitchen and finally decided to 'poop' on his cereal with some raisins." (great save, I may add!)
As a follow-up, our boy turned out fine. He wasn't scarred for life and he still likes to call honey in bear shaped bottles 'bear poop.' It's a family tradition that I'm sure he'll pass along to his kids one of these days. He makes me so proud. ;)