One of my students likes to converse around her one year old. Babies are sponges! She had bilingual education, so her expression flows in all directions. What we are trying to do, technically, is rein in families of conjugations (usually) to more specific subjects and objects. However, it is hard to rein in conversation that flows fluently, and especially with a one year old cruising around.
Mom places a toy that should help us in the middle of the room and starts pushing buttons: Triángulo, says the toy in a friendly pre-adolescent voice. Mom repeats it. Círculo, says a different button. The toy starts to get the baby’s attention: Morado. Mom starts reciting the colors, then. The baby, really, is more entertained playing a toy guitar. ¡Vamos a rocanrolear! Says the toy. “What does that mean?” My student asks, pronouncing it carefully, “Ro…”
“Let’s rock and roll!”
That’s the kind of word that:
1. If you asked me out of the blue, “How do you say rock ‘n’ roll?” I would be hesitant to tell you confidently, “¡Rocanrolear!”
2. I would undoubtedly use if I saw someone with long hair banging his head while playing the guitar, and for some reason I felt the need express, say, to my brother, the specific definition for that action, “Rocanroleando.”
3. I’m so happy a toy says!
Beyond basic shapes, and colors, words that reflect cultural and linguistic references is what makes our languages… well, a kind of rock and roll.
10/8/2013
eldictionary 