Because I Said So

My daughter's first words were "Daddle" and "Mim," which may seem to describe separate entities, but don't. In fact, they were three cohesive syllables she used to name the inseparable whole. The more refined designators that followed were used to issue commands to the Parental Blob, especially on Saturday mornings when her high-volume "MomEhDaddeeee!" informed us that she was awake, and expected us to be, too.

This use of language as command, of course, is equally familiar to anyone who's spent any time at all living in a cave, or hanging out in bars. The primeval communication of our hairy ancestors remains as useful as ever, and certainly no less effective. As Craig Conley points out in a recent interview, the primitive mind makes no distinction between cause and effect. Saying so does, in fact, make it so.

Language has the power to reawaken vestiges of humankind's earliest communication — our ancient ancestors' savage cries of anger or love. All such cries were commands; to the primitive mind the command was inseparable from the act, much in the way that a small child learns to conjure up a parent from the unseen void of an adjoining room, simply by employing a magic word like 'Mama'.

Although her language has become noticeably more precise and less commanding, the modern version of my daughter has little need for verbal communication of any sort. In addition to text messaging, her devastating I'm rolling my eyes maneuver never fails to get the point across, especially when it's delivered as she's walking away with one hand in the air.