That was something my dad used to call me when I was really young and inquisitive. Catch-o-meter. When my parents would be discussing something, I would listen to them intently and try to pick on their mannerisms, intonation and often new words.
I already see a younger version of a “catch-o-meter” in my cubby cat. He tries, with his limited syllables, to catch on to new words and repeat them. It is perhaps, a very sweet phase of his growing up as he is stretching his vocabulary and adding newer sounds that he can associate objects to.
He knows cars, buses, birds, dogs and cats, leaves, trees, butterflies, tiger, piglet, fish, sun, moon, ball, kick, goal and his all-time favourite ‘star’. He is picking newer words by the day! He claps for himself when he gets a word right and eggs his parents to clap for him. He revels in the recognition. The word ingrains itself in my little one’s RAM.
He is the ‘catch-o-meter’. Just a stronger word of caution to me (and less to my wife) to be less colourful while talking. My almost-20-month son is a human sponge. And I wouldn’t want him saying things that I wouldn’t want him to. Not just yet.
Fatherhood 