G-man is in that place in language development where creativity reigns supreme. Although he’s got new words everyday, he still has limitations in both the size of his vocabulary and the aptitude for interpretation of his audience.
“Meat. Eat.” is something we hear all day long. The phrase is born, we believe, out of his bro’s interest in the role our neighborhood organisms play in the food chain. Just about everything we encounter that moves is greeted with a slow, “Meeaat. Eeaat.” from G-man. Being rather inclined to plant eating myself, I am hoping that this is not his earliest attempt at demonstrating his inclination towards a carniverous lifestyle. I am rather hopeful that it is the limitations of his toddler lexicon that prevents him from showing equal enthusiasm for the idea of eating plants. Maybe we need to get him in the garden more.
Warm milk, pronounced like a hill billy would, I think, with long drawn out vowels and lingering consonants, is the incarnation of an inside joke he has going with our neighbor, Mike, who just loves to get down and get silly. G-man thinks Mike is a pretty cool guy, and when he came up with this phrase, G-man took it on as his trademark. He shares this little joke with everyone. Many, many times. He is branching out and trying to get sillier with variations such as warm juice, warm mud and warm wa-wa. Nothing gets as much laughter, though, as warm milk.