Spoon Theory (in Baby-Speak)

(I might explain Baby-Speak some day, for now know this is a computer speech-to-text modified to do phonetics so I can understand her for the parts she says.)

So Grampa wanted to know what spoon theory is. Grampa is an uneducated, deep south Alabama truck driver (the big ones) with not a lot of tolerance for stuff like science and fancy words. He adores Baby, though, and wanted to understand why she would poop out suddenly at times.

Sitting on the kitchen table (Baby and I are built weird — sitting on tables is more comfortable than sitting at them in chairs) Baby dumped the silverware tray on the table and counted out forty spoons (we have a big family).

Pulling ten spoons to herself she announces, “goss den spoons fer a dimes” (‘a dimes’ = a time).
Pushing ten toward me, she said, “M’Lissa goss den fer a dimes.”
She pushed the rest to Grampa. “Goss loss fer a dimes. Izn infindidy dough. Eben reglar peoples gess wored oud affer a dimes.”

“A dimes is mornin. M’Lissa seed a sun. Das a spoon, M’Lissa doan liked bride lides.” She took one of my spoons and threw it on the floor. “Den Monser banged a doh.” She threw one of her spoons on the floor. “Doan liked bangin.”

Taking a spoon from Grampa and me and adding one of her own she pushed them off the table to the floor. “Geddin showers inna mornin izn fun. Das a spoon fer eberpeoples.”

“Den!” she nearly yells. “Iz brefest. If Monser maked id, den goss alla spoons. If Monser din maked id yed den WHAM,” she pushed a spoon of mine and hers off the table, “roudine iz broked. Das a spoon fer bein mad.” Looking at Grampa she asked, “gess mad if brefest izn?”

Grinning, he shook his head, “nah. I’m the cook.”

“Den goss alla spoons.” Laying out her spoons in a line, she said, “Goss ony seben spoons fer a dimes.” Pointing at Grampa, “goss ninedeen ens ony brefest.”

Taking a spoon of mine and one of hers she throws them. “M’Lissa goed a worked en maked sad.” She took another of mine dropped it over the edge of the table (yes, she is having a lot of fun tossing spoons around). “M’Lissa gossa goed ouda da foress. Das a spoon. Den goed inna office. Das a spoon.” She dropped another for the office. “Hab a spoons is goed awready.”

Grampa holds up a spoon, “so if I get mad driving, I lose a spoon?”

“Uh huh, if’s makes hard a keeped doin stuff.”

“It does.” He dropped a spoon on the floor. “And someone cut me off. Coulda died.” He dropped another one.

Giggling, Baby took one of hers and dropped it. “Beeped a horn en maked a loud noise.” Baby can’t handle sudden loud noises (or loud banging type noise even when expected). “Probly hadda beed mad a sumfin. Lossa stuffs a beed mad ad.” Another of her spoons hit the floor. “Hab a spoons is goed.”

“What happens when you run out of spoons?” Grampa asked.

“Gossa lelled en screamed en hid stuffs en cried en maybe goed way.” (“Going away” is a shutdown since she doesn’t remember them.)

“It’s not lunchtime yet?”

“Uh uh! Lunges worser! Gess yucky stuff ta ead en dens nudder spoon.” She started to push a spoon of hers off the table, then pushed it toward me. “M’Lissa likes lunge sos gess a spoon, dough. Goss siss gain. Ony goss four.”

“If I like my lunch I get a spoon back?”

“If bein happy makes stuff easier den yup. If iz juss a time of nod mad anna ness ting is a same feelin den nope, a spoon is still goed.”

“The spoon is still goed.” Grampa smiled at Baby, in spite of knowing she doesn’t look at people’s faces. “I enjoy the break but as soon as I hit the road I feel the same as when I pulled off it.”

“Das how come is spoons. Kin measured id an knowed affer a spoons is goed deys goed eben ifs stopped a dimes.” She pushed her four spoons together. “Ony goss four. M’Lissa goss siss. Goss sebendeen. Affer lungedimes M’Lissa gossa a meedin.” She took two of my spoons. “Iz only free peoples sos doan esplode.” Dropping the spoons off to the floor she took four from Grampa’s pile.

“Was a askiden on a road ens gonna be laid.” She sighed. “Gess mad whens laid.”

“I do. Sorry, Baby.”

“Sos goss firdeen. M’Lissa goss four. Goss four.” She giggled. “Beed aside playin inna foress en din losed none.”

“Den M’Lissa gossa comed home inna car. Was a good dimes sos jussa spoon.” She takes one of mine and drops it on the floor, then looks over the edge of the table. “Gonna ged a spankin probly. Alla spoons is geddin dirty.”

“Loss ub hugs en kisses!” (Referring to me getting home from work.) She takes one of my spoons and adds one of her own and tosses them. “Iz lossa sitement. Needs lossa spoons.”

“Iz dinner. M’Lissa doan ead good cause gots kitty teef and tiny mouf.” She takes two spoons from me, leaving me with none. “M’Lissa gossa beed mad er goed way.” She drops the rest of her spoons on the floor. “Gossa beed aset fer M’Lissa.” Pointing at Grampa’s pile of spoons, she sighed. “Winned. Still goss spoons fer ress of dimes.”

“How do you get spoons back?”

“Lossa dimes goed en maybe lossa nice stuff like cannies. Iz hard.” (Lots of time passes and maybe get lots of nice things like candy. It’s hard.)

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