Ryan and I read from three books together every night, one of them being whichever Magic Tree House book we’re on. We are now up to #18 – “Buffalo Before Breakfast.” Here was some of tonight’s conversation after we read:
“Mom, what’s buckskin? Oh, wait! Isn’t that what Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett wore? Like animal skin?”
“Yes.”
“Mom, who’s on the ten dollar bill?”
“Alexander Hamilton.”
“Was he the prophet when Davy Crockett was alive?”
“You mean the president of the United States?”
“Oh, yea, the president, not the prophet. No, wait, that wasn’t Alexander Hamilton, that was Andrew Jackson. Which dollar bill is he on?”
“The twenty.”
“Oh, yea, the twenty. I know what I can do instead of Mississippi now. Banana!”
“You mean when you count?”
“Yea!”
My family was laughing at Ryan and me the other day. We were having a similarly patterned conversation, and no one had any idea what Ryan was talking about, yet I understood him perfectly. They thought it was pretty funny that I needed to be Ryan’s interpreter. We decided that it’s kind of like when babies are learning to talk. Their own mothers understand them perfectly, but to others (even other mothers), it’s all jibberish.
I SO understand that one! I am Ethan's translator to the world. What? No one else would have guessed that "deet de de deet" means "Sesame Street?"
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