Lost in Translation

Dedicated to my very dear friend, Maria:

I have become quite good at speaking Toddlerese. I often have to translate what my kids say to other family members or strangers. Even so, there are time when understanding my own kids is a bit of a mystery.
And so, when Naomi called from her bed last night, several hours after she had gone to sleep, I wasn't all the way surprised that I couldn't understand her. I know that my own speech can be difficult to understand when I am just wake up from a deep sleep.
"Muuummmy!
"Mummmmy. blurbleblurble fengeh."
"Pardon?"
"Blurbleblurble finger."
"Your finger?"
"Blurbleblurble my finger."
It's true that she's been a bit whiny lately, and so I took the best educated guess that I could.
"You hurt your finger, Sweetheart? Here, let me kiss it." And I planted a nice, lippy, soft kiss on her finger. But apparently a kiss was not what she wanted this time, because she repeated herself - much more clearly than the first several times:
"Mummy, I have poop on my finger."