Not quite lost in translation

Gabriel has named his snowman “Bun In the Oven”.
This is a product of too much time spent with the movie Ice Age.
G and BIO
It took us awhile to translate. What he really says is “bodily oven”—which in itself is kind of hilarious, considering the meaning of the phrase.

He loves Bun and was disturbed to see his leaning condition (it snowed, then rained); he wanted me to make him straight. I assured him that until it warmed up, Bun would stand. I did my best to pound his smile and eyes back in. As you can see, G is right pleased.

While G and I worked on Bun, J threw himself, quite literally, into the making of a giant snowball, which was to become a snowman, which sort of did, until the crashing game ensued. No matter; he was happy with it. Happy with the game of rolling off and smashing into it. Just plain happy. (Isn’t our neighbor’s house lovely? I love how they decorate for Christmas—classy and understated, completely suited to the design of the house.)

js snowball

In other exciting news, J’s reading is really starting to take off. When he sounds out a word, he is able to more easily pull it together. Something clicks that wasn’t clicking before (which matches up with his newest fascination: cameras). I’m guessing this is due to a developmental leap, coupled with the reading program his wonderful intervention specialist is doing with him.

And while I might bemoan the preponderance of Ice Age references, I never thought I’d be so grateful for a movie-spinoff reader. Knowing the story makes a monumental difference when it comes to deciphering new words. He wants to read.

reading hands

As does G, who has a thing for song lyrics, particularly Gram Parson’s “Return of the Grievous Angel” covered by The Counting Crows. He pulls out the booklet from the library-borrowed case and “reads” the liner notes, which comes across as a garbled rendition of the song lyrics as he understands them (yes, it’s hilariously cute). His words pretty much run together in a long stream of barely distinguishable syllables until the phrase, “out with the truckers and the kickers and the cowboy angels / and a good saloon in every town” which he pronounces with a sweet twang all his own.

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2 thoughts on “Not quite lost in translation

  1. Pingback: ‘qanir’, to snow | Blue Dog

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