Happy Happy!

(Singing and dancing catch-up post, two of three.)

From this past weekend; we’d spent a number of hours in the car listening to Shirei Gan Shalom: Songs in the Garden, by Melita Doostan & Octopretzel. (Such a great album!) The record was the December mailing from the PJ Library for kids ages two to three. (Such a wonderful program!)

Somewhere on the album, Doostan sings “Happy Birthday” in Hebrew. (For the life of me I can’t find it in online track listings.) I have no Hebrew, but I do know the word “sameach.” As does Toby now!

“Happy Sameach”! Surely one of the nicest things you could wish anyone.

Old MacDonald’s Artisanal Plate Concern

A snippet of a conversation from this past Saturday morning, 4 December 2010:

Toby: On this farm he had a spoop.
Tom: What’s a spoop?
Toby: It’s for making plates.
Tom: Oh. (Pause.) Do we have one?
Toby: Yeah. It’s in the pock.
Tom: Really? Where’s our pock?
Toby: Over there. (Points at front hallway.)

The one thing that troubled me about this exchange was the word “pock.” Toby has a classmate at day care who appears to be a kind of two-year-old bad seed with a potty mouth. He calls other kids “stupid,” but he also calls them “stukid”—in other words, he seems to have learned very early on the sophomoric dodge of changing a consonant or vowel of a bad word, thus rendering it technically not a bad word. (What kind of parent raises a toddler to verbally abuse other toddlers? Some of these kids can’t even talk yet. Does bullying really start this early? Are democracy and civilization doomed?) So Emily and I are a little worried that “pock” is a word that’s come home from day care—a word learned from a bad kid who intended it to be a stand-in for something else.

I’m glad to learn that we have a spoop, though. Plate-making might be just the sideline business we’ve been looking for.