Baby talk schmaby talk... these are the words of a man.

Anyway, since that fateful day, I've been trying my mouth at a range of vocab: Dog, Dummy, Bottle, Grandad, Dog again, and although much of what results may sound much of a muchness to a layperson, I can assure you that the slight key shift between Doo and Doo can mean a world of difference.

The last few weeks have definitely seen a turning point though... people actually seem to understand what I'm trying to convey - and when you add in t he odd point/smile/clap-of-the-hands to let them know they're on the right track, it is truly amazing what you can achieve.

But I fear that my initial excitement is beginning to wane since I was told by a fellow little fella that I have all the words I'll ever need.

Now I'm not one for taking playtime banter too seriously, but this particular conversation came during a nursery room merger a couple of weeks ago.

Due to painting and decorating issues, the Buttercup and Poppy rooms had an impromtu meeting of little minds, which for us Buttercups translated to getting some life lessons from our more more worldly two-year-old Poppy counterparts.

A certain Poppy poppet, who has asked to remain nameless, casually enquired how the whole communication thing was going, with particular emphasis on vocabulary.

I replied things were going pretty well on that most important of fronts, demonstrating my claim perfectly by uttering the most complicated trio from my pronunciation portfolio:

"Up-stairs... Hot Tea.... All Done".

The aforementioned toddler was dumbstruck... apparently that's all you need as a man in his household.... I must tell Daddy he's putting in far too much effort.