The Mysteries of Language

I recently moved up in the world of transcribing, to college courses. Currently, I am sitting in on the most fascinating linguistics course and learning all sorts of things about verbs that I have tried to repress since eighth grade. But perhaps most importantly, I have learned from a college professor that using the word ‘can’ in a question of permission is completely permissible and should not be subject to the snarky reply of “I don’t know, can you?” So there.

Now I know that I CAN ask if I CAN go to the bathroom, and I CAN use the word CAN as a perfectly acceptable substitute for the word may, because a Doctor of Linguistics says I CAN. If anybody gives you grief over the usage you can give them the technical explanation. “The deontic usage of the word ‘can’ denotes a loose social obligation , in that I am asking, not if I am capable of going to the bathroom, but if I am allowed.” Then you can smugly leave to go to the lavatory, while they are looking up the meaning of the word ‘deontic.’

I find language simply fascinating. Was that the reason that I studied so many languages in high school, or was studying Latin, German, ASL, and Spanish what made me love languages? I don’t know which is cause and which is effect, but the end result is I love to watch and discuss how languages evolve. Chalk up another mark to my rampant nerdiness.

In other language fronts, isn’t it so fascinating when kids go beyond the parroting phase of language into creating their own string of sentences? James is finally getting to that point. Sure he has been chattering and talking for quite some time but mostly in one or two word phrases and the occasional sentences that he hears the adults repeat to him over and over.

I have noticed that in the past month or so, he has gone beyond that to forming his own conclusions about words and what they mean. He makes the most interesting leaps of logic and expresses those ideas to me in very cute and fascinating ways.

For example- he loves pepperoni, but when we bought baloney, he associated the similar sound of the words with pepperoni. Then we moved onto to lunch meat which looked similar to baloney. The end result is he now calls all lunch meat “pepper-blowni.” You have to spit when you say the Ps and Bs too, to get the right effect. And ok, it was so cute, we all call it pepperblowni now.

He also asks me to “open” his strawberries. This means taking the leafy stem part off. I can only figure that “opening” food to him means making it edible and accessible to him.

This morning, as I was insisting on putting his shoes and socks before we went to the sitters, and he was fighting tooth and nail against it, he announced “I want my feet back on!” I am not sure if he properly appreciated why I was laughing at him.