When the comic strip ROSE IS ROSE first hit my local newspapers, it annoyed the hell out of me. See, Rose's son, Pasquale, was just learning to speak then. And his dialogue appeared in this garbled phonetic mess that could only really be worked out by reading the strip aloud. It was like slogging through Huckleberry Finn every time Jim said more than a few words.
Now I have a little boy who talks. Constantly. Nonstop. And I am the only person on the planet who can understand the majority of it. Grandparents, aunts & uncles, even his father, freeze with that smile of "honey I am absolutely riveted by what you are saying to me" and shoot me looks of desperation. I, the ever-on-duty translator, am always quick to confirm, "Oh, that's right! You DID see two turkeys in the back yard, and they ran away!"
Now I have a little boy who joyfully sings at the top of his lungs,
Ken we fik it?
LES! WE! KEN!
Now I understand.
And now I'm feeling a little jealous of ol' Rosie. See, she lives in comic-strip time. So even though her little boy is indeed growing up, he is doing it slowly. Leisurely. Maybe not as slow as those kids from PEANUTS, but still...