Going places, New languages, Mr. Rogers

My granddaughter decided the other day that she and her daddy were going to travel. She invited him to sit in the passenger seat of the couch and soon they were on their way.
“Where are we going?” asked Daddy
“To Arkansock” was the immediate answer.
“Who are we going to see there?”
“Grammy and Papi.”
They don’t love in Arkansock.”
“Yes they do, we just went there to see them.”
[Technically, she was correct. They had just a few months prior driven over to Arkansas to meet us and the rest of the family. Grandma and Grandpa (Mama’s mom and dad) had not seen our grandson since his birth and he was almost eighteen months old at the time.]
But as is often the case with three-year-olds, that trip did not last very long and soon they were off to another destination.
Her daddy was not sure of the destination since it seemed to him to be gibberish, but when she repeated it, she said it exactly the same way. So Mommy asked where she was taking Daddy; again, the same word was used even though it meant nothing to the two of them.
Later that evening her Daddy suddenly understood the confusion. Since he speaks Hungarian, he had begun teaching his daughter some words in that language. The word she used for their pretend destination must have meant as much to her as any of the other words he was trying to teach her.
Many years earlier, when her Mommy (my daughter) was only about three years old we went to Mexico with her Grandma and Grandpa Kline (my mom and dad). We had driven down to the border town of Brownsville from Houston and had walked across the bridge into Mexico. Since the “mercado” was only a few blocks from the border we walked across rather that driving in Matamoros, or worse yet, finding a safe place to park.
While we were over there I had translated for my wife and my Dad as we made small purchases in the market. My mom was trying out her Spanish throughout the entire adventure. Of course, I had translated so for my two kids also. Later that evening when we were supposed to be settling down for bed, my son and daughter started talking all kinds of made up words to each other. After twenty or thirty minutes I had had my fill and fussed at the two of them;
“I did not take the time to teach you two to talk properly for you to go around making up words and talking like babies, what’s the problem?”
My three-year-old looked up at me, totally perplexed, “But Daddy, you did all day today.”
Many times it is not what we say to our children, but rather, what they hear that has the greatest impact on our ability to communicate with them. It was about that time that I watched as my children sat in rapt attention listening to the irritating drone of Mister Rogers.
Suddenly I understood that what irritated me attracted them. His slow, meticulously spoken sentences were being fully processed by the developing language centers of my very young children. They understood him because as he spoke, pronouncing each word fully and slowly, they had time to process the information and keep up with the thoughts. It was a revelation that changed my way of talking – especially to young children.
Now I have become Mister Rogers – of sorts. But it works for me.