07/09/99

Adult Baby Talk

Readers occasionally send me opinions about topics unrelated to those I've written and posted on the SNET site. The following story, from LC VanSavage, provides a humorous look at a language we all use on occasion -- baby talk!

Dear Beth:

You may not agree with me, but there actually is a rightful place in the American lexicon for baby talk, even though as a "language" it can, to some of us, be wildly annoying. But a language it is, and it will not go away. So those of us who don't use it and hate its sound will simply have to endure. (We all use baby talk on our own babies and grandchildren, but that, according to the pediatric doctors of the hour, is a good thing and is to be encouraged.)

Baby talk, as spoken by adults, has always fascinated me, but a month ago I heard a couple of women speaking the patois with such ease and dexterity, I quickly realized it was a second language for them, a personal jargon they easily slipped into and enjoyed, and most of all, understood.

I was spending some time with them in their home, and because they had become comfortable with me, their baby talk soon lapsed into a nearly perpetual lingo. While I could but did not answer them in this personal lingo, I was surprised to hear the rhythm of my own speech becoming altered and more in cadence with theirs when they used it. This was odd and very interesting to me. I make a point of never reacting with surprise at these adult women speaking like that, because I was eager to hear more. I knew if I looked askance, or worse, laughed at their silly but charming infantile chatter, they'd have been embarrassed and ceased immediately. I wanted neither of those things to happen.

It was only the women who did it. The men in the household answered them in regular, normal language and never lapsed into baby talk with them nor reacted with any shame or discomfort when the women spoke that way. It has obviously become a completely normal part of their lives.

There was one extremely hilarious (to me) incident where I heard these women speaking baby talk, not to each other but to their dog, Spanky (last name Spangler). Now frequently, people who speak baby talk, speak it to their pets who neither know nor care that they are being infantilized, as long as someone is forking over the daily grubsteak.

These two women constantly spoke baby talk, not just to Spanky, but to Spanky's mother Carly, too, and perpetually referred to the mother and son as , "Our dee-ow widdoo boys, owah thweedest widdoo baby boys." Mother Carly never seemed to mind being called a "widdoo baby boy." (Well, she'd been spayed.)

Anyway, back to the incident. Carly and Spanky never have to be taken outdoors because the family has installed a dog door for them, which they clatter in and out of all day long. One rainy morning, however, Spanky apparently disliked the idea of getting soaked while performing his AM toilette, so he stuck his head through the dog door, outside, lifted his leg and relieved himself in the kitchen, inside.

I burst into loud bellows of laughter, but my two woman friends burst into enraged baby talk directed at an immediately chastened Spanky. And baby talk, when done in a fury, is just plain screamingly funny. The two ladies railed in their lingo back and forth over Spanky's lowered head, and it went something like this, if I can get the phonetics down.

"Thpanky Thpangwo, just ook wut ooo did! Ooo be a berry bad boy, ooo baaad Thpanky doggie boy. Ust ooo wook. Thee wut ooo did? Oooo made pishy on oo mommy's kitchen fwoor, on her nithe bwand new winoweum. Oh Thpanky, Thpanky Thpangwo, ooo go thtand inna cownah, ooo bad, bad widdoo boy." Spanky, obviously used to this, slowly wagged his tail in apology and slunk off.

What was more amazing to me was hearing these women chat routinely in baby talk with each other or with friends who were baby-talk-user-friendly, the way foreign-born folks living here will rapidly speak a steady mixture of English and their native tongue. These women, however, would speak normally with any acquaintance unfamiliar with this gibberish. It was utterly fascinating to hear.

I have a friend who uses it constantly on her husband to get things from him, like money and every thing else. What is weird is that everyone knows she does this, because she lapses into it in public and at dinner parties. But he himself is totally clueless. It's not denial . he is simply a pleasant but utterly doltish guy who doesn't realize he's being bled dry by a woman who pronounces all her L's and R's as W's, sticks out her lower lip, lowers her head, looks up at him adoringly and within ten days is cruising in her new Mercedes convertible, loaded, leather, lime-green.

Hey, what am I thinking? I think I'll twy thith on my thweetums iddoo hubby, "Mongo." I weawwy would thure wub to hab a bwand new Thoobawoo.

LC VanSavage
Email: lc@vansavage.com

Author's Note: My mother was one of two sets of fraternal twins in her family. She and her twin brother developed a toddler language all their own, which they later lapsed into whenever they got together or talked on the phone. Spoken in a high, breathy voice, its words were completely incomprehensible to anyone but them. It didn't annoy me to hear it, because they derived so much pleasure from using it. I loved to listen to them and often begged them to say more, so I could figure out some of the words. But I never could. I sure wish I had thought of tape recording it!

Please send questions or comments to bbruno@snet.net.