Sunday, October 21, 2007

Gock? What the hell is a gock?

"Gock!" Little Dog says as he points vaguely at some unknown object in the kitchen.
"Fork?" I offer
"No, no want it fook! Gock!" he replies with s lightly increased urgency.
"Frog?" I say while searching the floor for one of our many bath frogs.
"No, no want it fawg! GOCK!" he says again, and louder, as though the problem is that I am just not hearing what he is asking for.
I have no idea what Gock means. This is a new request to me, and in the kitchen, cluttered with just about every toy, eating utensil, cooking tool, piece of junk mail imaginable and any spare piece of junk that has yet to find a "home" in our cluttered house, it could be ANYTHING. I start to struggle, "Plate? How about a plate?"
"No want it pate! GOCK, GOCK!"
I start to sift through the small toys in the indicated area, but with any 20 month old, the point is wobbly, and easily indicates about half of the kitchen.
In frustration, I pick up a Playmobil man, (a game warden who drives a snazzy zebra striped Jeep with a trailer large enough to haul a rhino AND ample rhino food), and set him on the table.
A smile and a look of relief spreads across Little Dog's face. "Gock" he coos and picks up the pith helmeted figure. He admires him, then holds him out to me "Gock!"

How he earned this name is a mystery. We have tried to investigate, but no real result.
"Little Dog, why is his name Gock?" asked Mr. Dog as Little Dog played happily with his odd little pal.
"Because that's what he calls him!" explained Big Dog with a healthy dose of just-how-stupid-are-you in his voice

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