From the potty mouths of babes

'MORONS! There are some MORONS!'

This courtesy of Ana, high decibel, on our walk to the park this morning. The MORONS, or motorists, didn't appear to be doing anything particularly stupid. Next passing car, also MORONS.

MORONS, MORONS, MORONS. By the time we reached the park, an entire village of MORONS had been identified and shamed.

Ana has chronic pediatric outburst syndrome, a relatively common childhood condition. I first noticed it when she was about 18 months and could not yet pronounce the letter L. This didn't stop her from loudly identifying every clock she spotted. Fortunately we live in England, this just came accross as an interest in chickens.

*&£"*^$£-+^%*!!!

Around the same time she had difficulty with the letter R, but nevertheless became fascinated with shirts. She developed a compulsion to point at every one she saw, in a manner reminiscent of Dr Strangelove. This became a bit of a problem because we live in a village where about half the residents are sweet grannies, perpetually down the shop. Here's a typical sampling of dialogue from that time:

Bog Standard Gran: 'Hello poppet, how old?

Mama: 'Thank you Bog Standard Gran, 18 months.

Ana activates Strangelovian pointer finger salute.

BS Gran: 'Coocheecoo--"

Ana commences shirt recognition sequence...

BS Gran: '--cheecoochee--'

Ana launches: 'Sh*t! Sh*t! Sh*t!

Gran runs for cover, digestive biscuits go flying.

Ana: 'Sh*t! Sh*t! Sh*t!'

Pronunciation misunderstandings form the backbone of Ana's POS, but poor-taste word fixation brings up the rear. My neighbor's cat, Nemesis (I have no idea what his real name is), is essentially a poo-hose on legs. One afternoon I caught Nemesis red-bottomed in the middle of my front yard, where my kids play. I yelled at him to take his huge poo elsewhere. From behind me came: 'HUGE POO! 'HUUUUUUUUUGE POOOOOOO!' I should have seen it coming really.

HUGE POO was everywhere for weeks. The animals at the zoo were all taking huge poos (they weren't). Other kids were huge pooers. Trees pooed, cars pooed. Even BS Gran was implicated.

Ana's POS had been in remission for some time before rearing it's ugly mouth again today. It took me half the morning to figure out that it was my inane chatter about cars that had kicked it off: 'There's one car...there's another one...there are some more'. Ana fused these together into kid-speak: 'There are some more ones', or to my ears: 'MORONS!!!'.

I pity BS Gran. She won't deserve this. But the next time we see Nemesis, Ana will be ready.