Capers With Carroll

Sometime between our Thanksgiving and Christmas visits, my grandson gained the ability to use morphologically recognizable English. (His parents often use Portuguese, as well, but if the kid’s using it, I wouldn’t recognize it.) As he tried to pet the elderly and remarkably patient Psychokitty, Nato plainly repeated, “ca(t).” Then he vroomed the wooden car that first belonged to his uncle, and said, “ca(r),” managing to get the subtle difference in the vowels. Thus, he is beginning with nouns, as did his father, thirty years ago, poking his finger against the aquarium to say, “fi(sh),” and watching the pooch go by and saying, “do(g).” The auntie, whom I walked down the aisle last Saturday, and the linguist uncle who took off for China immediately after the wedding, both began with directionals, she standing at my feet to say, “Up,” and he at the front door to run together as one word, “Go ou(t).” Nato is also using sign language. In the parking lot the morning after the wedding, he patted his head to say he wanted to wear my hat.

(Photo by his father)
My grandson and I have begun our conversation.