I am raising a multi-lingual child. The 3yr old Beast is speaking English. (Thank you me.) Spanish. (Thank you Dora.) And now Maori – thanks to her preschool. Today she asked me (with an annoyed expression on her face)
“Mama, why you speaking English?”
“Umm because that’s the language that we speak.”
“No, we have to talk like Dora. Or talk like Anna” ( Anna being her teacher at school.)
And then she rattles off stuff in Maori. Mixed in with nuggets of Spanish. Well, I’m assuming that’s what she was doing. It was all undecipherable to me. Because, like…all I can speak is ENGLISH…like…sorry for being such an uncultured derwit.
But then for a moment there I felt aflush and aflutter with pride. In myself. In my magnificent mothering skills. Wow, my 3yr old is already conversant in THREE different languages! That’s like…sooo 2011, sooo international…soooo intellectual!
The moment quickly passed. (as most fluttery self-praising moments do)Because it then occurred to me, that she speaks English by osmosis default, Spanish because Im lazy and let her watch faaaar too much television, and she speaks Maori because she’s got kickbutt awesome preschool teachers. And on top of all that?
We’re actually SAMOAN. (well mixed up mongrel Samoans)
And she can’t speak a word of Samoan.
Conclusion: Child is multi-lingual because she has a Bad Mother. #Epic Fail yet again…