Sometimes it is a little difficult to understand Andrew. He might slur his words, speak too fast, or use words like "onus" that I do not understand (Isn't an onus the poop chute?). Although he is always improving with his speech and enunciation, he has always been a good three to four months behind Emma.
During dinner, Andrew was babbling on about this television show he was watching. He was telling me how funny it was and then he ended his description with a word I could not understand. It sounded like pansy or patsy or penis. But he kept on saying the word over and over again until he began to get frustrated with me.
And then I heard Emma interrupt. "Daddy," she said. "Andrew is saying 'panda'."
"No, no, no," she corrected. "Daddy. First say 'pan'."
I said, "Pan."
"Now say 'da'."
I said, "Da."
"Now say it together. Pan...da. See! It is easy."
As Emma continued to eat her meal, I slowly processed what just happened to me. It's uncomfortable and irritating enough to be spoken to with such condescension, but it takes on a whole new meaning when it is spoken by your three year old daughter.
She spoke to me like I was some sort of idiot. Even worse, an idiot who she took pity upon. I wondered where she learned to speak like this, but more importantly I wondered how she became so perceptive. How was she able to see through my subterfuge of Japanese geekiness and see me for what I really am: a simpleton dumbass.
I smell the influence of the wife.