You confer. I’ll concur.

I knew I was in trouble when she asked for J.K. Rowling’s The Goblet of Fire for her fourth birthday. Not Barbie, not candy, not a tea set, not a Big Wheels or a video game or even cold, hard cash. She just wanted to know what was going to happen to Sirius Black, and if Harry Potter would EVER see him again. As we read The Prisoner of Azkaban, I kept waiting for signs that I needed to stop — you know, tightening of the muscles, goosebumps, ANY form of bodily fluids, whether it be wetting of the pants or big, scared tears. But nothing! She wasn’t the least bit anxious about the dementors or boggarts or werewolves…. so long as she was sleeping in my bed with her fat baby toes digging into the backs of my knees, her fingers intricately woven into my slobber-moistened hair, then I suppose there really wasn’t anything to fear. But the day she celebrated her fourth, I could hear the joyous angels singing in her head the second she realized that the heavy bag she was about to open was the bounded 734 pages she’d asked for. There hasn’t been any turning back since. She and my 23-month-old Emma gravitate toward, cling to, eat with, sleep with and, basically, INHALE any and every book they can get their greedy little hands on.

So far, it hasn’t quite affected Emma’s vocabulary yet. She’s still stuck on repeating everything she hears coming out of the grown-up mouths…

“In a minute!”
“No!”
“Get dom!” (get down, if you’re in-the-know)
“Kyra, Stop!”
“I’ll help you!”

But we’re gonna give it time and see just how quickly it evolves. If Antonia is any indication, Emma’s vocabulary will surpass mine by the time she turns six.

Antonia has recently found the journal I began writing to her way back when I took the home test telling me she was on the way, the journal I religiously wrote in until she was three and her brother joined the family and I officially became someone who lived minute to minute, in a constant state of sleep deprivation. (Digression: I feel very badly that I was unable to perform such detailed, sappy journaling with any of my other children… although I’m sure they’ll thank me later.)

I had anticipated giving this journal to Antonia later in her life, like maybe when she turned 18 or when she herself had a child, IF she has a child. But now that she’s halfway done reading it, I’m realizing that she probably appreciates it more now than she might have at the age of 18. I’ve caught her giggling, smiling, blushing, even crying, but mostly trying to decipher the scribbles otherwise known as my handwriting.

“I can’t read some of your writing, Mom. But, luckily, the adjoining words confer meaning most times and I can fill in the blanks.”

Confer?? Did she just say… CONFER? Did she even use that in the right context, I wondered. I’d never used it that way…. Let me confer with my supervisor. Or, This is huge; let’s confer before making a decision…. never something as sophisticated-sounding as “confer meaning.” I repeated the sentence in my head all night long so as not to forget. Then later, after she’d gone to bed, I had to go to the trusty online dictionary/thesaurus helper to check it out. Because it SOUNDED right, but Miss Anal wasn’t convinced that her usage was correct.

What I learned is that... yes, a creative mind could use it the way that she used it. It can mean bestow or present, as in conferring a diploma. So I’ve decided it’s acceptable. I’ve CONFERRED the world with a downright smarty-pants.

Before now, I was impressed when she’d tell me that Emma was being UNCOOPERATIVE, instead of just heaving and snorting like the way I would have at her age when my younger sister wouldn’t let me put her shoes on her dangerously flailing-around feet. But she’s not me, and yet she is.

I can’t believe she used the word confer. And what about that other word ADJOINING!?

My baby’s vocabulary is all grown up!