I’m no authority on all kids. I only know my own.

But from observation, I have deduced a secret “kid language” exists that they sometimes speak and comprehend that makes (at best) surface sense to any adult.

Actually, that isn’t accurate. Any adult would be totally confused, but an adult that was a parent of similar-aged children at some point might retain surface comprehension of preschooler speech in that parent’s most lucid and flexible moments.

The phrases that jump out of my sons’ mouths are so otherworldly it takes me many seconds on my best day to categorize them. One current common saying they began is, “I’ll go Cheezee Puffs and Whacko Cream!” This is repeated often, out of the blue and at volume, with giggles to indicate it is amusing.

Analyzing the sentence gave me the insight that the Cheezee Puffs came from a book we’ve been reading, called, “Llama, Llama, Mad at Mama.” When my younger son speculated as to what Cheezee Puffs tasted like in the course of this book, I heard retired nurse Nana tell him only llamas ate Cheezee Puffs, but they weren’t the right food for little boys.

I’m not sure what sparked the fascination with this “llama” food, but it was incorporated into the most popular statement in our house. There simply is no explanation for the “whacko cream” part of the proverb.

When staring at my children and dissecting their bizarre phrase, I thought to myself that Whacko Cream has been liberally applied to them at some point, but the contact moment isn’t clear. The expression came from nowhere I can fathom.

Our 3-year-old began repeating a brand-new saying one evening after bath. As I attempted to smear petroleum jelly on his nose and lips, he started repeating, “Dewey, dewey; I don’t have a trunk!” This was accompanied by a plucking motion with one hand, as if he was raising his arm to pick pretend grapes off a vine.

Anyone who has had extended time with youngsters knows repetition is the main path to hilarity. Over and over the “dewey dewey” phrase went, getting funnier and funnier to both boys.

It came up again the next day at the same time, instigated by our 5-year-old and snowballing into family participation. I made the mistake of repeating it as “Zooey, zooey,” instead of “dewey dewey,” and was forcefully and instantly corrected. Such a crucial detail …

Yesterday, my older son told me he was in a “poshy” mood. When asked to give more detail, he looked at me like I must be joking, and said, “I just told you, Mama! I feel poshy!”

Both boys have a tendency to announce that their names no longer are the ones we assigned at birth, but rather some new fabrication that is as idiotic as can be imagined.

Earlier this week, my eldest insisted his new name was “Bleaah,” and he said it with his tongue out and in exactly the same tone as the castle “Aaaargh” in Monty Python’s “The Holy Grail.” His younger brother was enamored of this fun and rather offensive sounding word, and immediately I had not one, but two sons now self-named “Bleaah!”

Until they come out with a dictionary or template for understanding these foreign phrases, I guess I’ll just keep going Cheezee Puffs and Whacko Cream.

Source: The Newark Advocate, OH
http://www.newarkadvocate.com/article/20081102/LIFESTYLE/811020343