Talking to Strangers

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Like most toddlers, Brock is certainly not our jute box. Most attempts to get him to say a particular thing end in silence or quiet mumbles that we have to translate. But when Brock thinks of his own thing to say, he will belt it loud and proud. 

A week ago I had to take him to the autobody shop to pick up our car from some rear-ending bodywork. I had explained to him that we were saying goodbye to the rental car. As I fumbled with the door and the car seat, Brock excitedly ran past me up to the receptionist and yelled, "We're here for OUR car!"

Last night we went to our local mexican restaurant. Holly ordered a margarita. I went for a michelada. Then the waiter turned to Brock and asked, "and what can I get for you little man?" Brock immediately replied, "Chips and salsa! Spicy!" The waiter was floored. The waiter brought our drinks first. "Salsa?" Brock asked again. It came eventually.


It's a tangent, but Brock has become quite the little singer. As we walked home from mexican he started a round of his favorite song: Bingo. "There was a farmer had a dog and Bingo was it's name-o, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O...."

If you try and break him out of the loop he gets mad and yells, "NO! Brock sing!" It's a long song, but he has a beautiful voice. 

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