When I picked John up on Friday he was bursting to tell me what he wanted to do for the weekend. He was bouncing about on his computer chair and spinning around. Every so often he shouted ‘Knockers’.
‘Crane, Debris sweets, knockers, pom, Webskirtee’ John paused briefly to take a breath ‘Cheese on toast, knockers, wimil, Stanee Scoo, chippy tea, knockers.’
The chair was starting to get dizzy ‘John, stop now please, before you break the chair’ I couldn’t help laughing at him, so full of gorgeousness and mischief.
John stopped, looked at me quizzically and then started spinning on the chair again, slapping his head and giggling. I put my arms around him in a bear hug to stop him but miscalculated the force of John plus the chair and I keeled over into a toy box.
John thought this was a great game and dived off the chair on top of me, yelling ‘Knockers’ down my ear.
On the way home I asked John what ‘Knockers’ were. It wasn’t a word I had heard him use before so it was important to find out exactly what it meant to John. Regular readers of this blog will know that he doesn’t always use the correct words for things, resulting in red faces all round. Except that is for John who is blissfully unaware of political correctness.
‘John, what are knockers?’ I asked ‘You have a new word which I don’t understand, can you tell me?’
‘Knockers pom’ said John helpfully, nodding his head.
‘I don’t know what they are though John’ I shrugged and shook my head.
Knockers yes!’ explained John looking at me as if I was mad for not knowing.
‘When we get home will you be able to find a picture of them to show me?’ I asked.
‘Ome, cake, juice please ‘ agreed John before spotting a pylon in the distance and as always happens when he sees a pylon, he became transfixed and mooed lovingly at it whilst rocking slowly in his seat. I would get no sense out of him now.
When we arrived home John dashed into the kitchen while I set about unpacking the car and transferring all his toys, cameras, radio-cassette recorders, video tapes, camcorder tapes, cassette tapes, CD’s, pictures and three Buzz Lightyears up to his room.
With any luck I would have it finished by midnight.
John came back out from the kitchen with my binoculars and said ‘Mummy’s knockers’.
In the past he had always just used the mime method, holding invisible binoculars to his eyes when he had wanted to use them. He was obviously wanting to broaden his vocabulary, which can only be good in the long term. In the short term it could all go Pete Tong.
I realised I would need to come up with an alternative word if my nerves and reputation were to survive the weekend.
The following morning John decided he wanted to go to Westkirby station in the car, not on the train. He also wanted to take the binoculars. It was time to rename them. Short words are easiest for John to say and for me to understand, so I thought ‘Bins’ should do the trick.
I held the binoculars up and said to John that we would call them ‘Bins’ and not ‘Knockers’ as ‘Knockers’ was a bad word, giving the thumbs down sign to confirm that it was bad.
‘Bins’ said John putting his hands to his eyes miming looking through binoculars ‘bins bins ‘ he repeated proudly, adding ‘bins S boat pom, tea’.
I realised he was saying that he wanted to go onto the promenade after tea and use the binoculars to see if the ‘S’ boat was out in the Irish sea. All very logical now I knew what ‘knockers were’
I was amazed “Yes of course we can. Well done John you clever boy, bins is a good word’ giving him the thumbs up sign to show him it was indeed a good word.
Just one last time, to make absolutely sure he understood I held up the binoculars and asked him tell me what they were. He shouted ‘BINS’ at the top of his voice clearly thinking I couldn’t hear a word he was saying, followed by ‘ WEBSKIRTEE, CAR, NOW PLEASE MUMMY’ and pointed towards West Kirby incase I had lost my sense of direction as well as my hearing.
Once we arrived at West Kirby station John ran to the ticket office to look at the clock on the wall through his ‘Bins’.
To do this he put them to his eyes and pressed them up against the window, not happy with the view he turned them upside down and back to front which seemed to help.
He then trained them on the ‘Ticket man’ who thankfully knows John well.
‘What have you got there Johnny boy?’ he said.
‘Mummy’s knocker’s’ replied John.