Cookwah

Evan's a chatty fellow, and he spends the majority of his days jabbering away cheerfully. This is a nice way of saying that the kid never shuts up. Never. The casual onlooker would think his babble to be entirely without syntax or meaning, but I've gotten pretty good at deciphering Evanspeak and can follow along with his train of thought the vast majority of the time. (A little side note here: his train of thought is not really all that interesting to me much of the time. Does it make me a bad mom to admit this?) It is, however, becoming increasingly clear to me that I am missing something very important that my son is trying to communicate. And that something sounds something like "cookwah."

The cookwah word that I do not understand is not to be confused with Evan's word for his beloved Cookie Monster, which is also pronounced cookwah. No, cookwah simply must mean something else in addition to Cookie Monster. Because no person in his right mind, no matter how obsessed with a big furry blue monster who is a messy eater, would talk about that monster ALL DAY LONG. Seriously. At least 75 times in any given hour. With (and I can't stress this enough) EXTREME intensity. He can't just be talking about a Sesame Street character that much. He must be trying to communicate something else, something I'm missing, something noble about wanting world peace or his plan to cure hunger in impoverished areas with the donation of massive amounts of cookies. Right? Right???

I know that Cookie Monster's googly eyes are appealing, that his approach to sugar consumption is endearing. I think it's sweet that Evan's asserting his individuality and forming his own attachments and all that crap. But if the child is really just talking about Cookie Monster all day, every day, without so much as a pause to breathe sometimes? I can't even bring myself to contemplate how mind numbing the next 17 years of listening to him talk all day are going to be.