And I don’t mean in a scaredy cat kind of way.  Yesterday, my almost-six-year-old was in the basement.  I was in my room, across the hall from a sleeping two-year-old, aka as the sweet pea that will turn into a terror if she doesn’t get or is interrupted in her napping.

Miss J was at the bottom of the steps shouting, “Mommy!”

She gets musical, “Mommy, mommy, mommy,” she sings.

*I* am in the room trying to hurry up with what I was doing because, by no means, was I going to shout at her and wake the baby.  Mental note- Discuss with kids how shouting for someone across the house is bad manners.  Mental note- Stop shouting for kids/hubby across the house.

Since I wasn’t answering to my name in English, apparently she decided to use another language.  And suddenly I hear “Bwock, bwock, bwock!” coming from the basement.

Apparently, when someone doesn’t answer you in English, the next logical language to use is Chickenese.