Last week, I picked up my three-year-old from daycare, and as I walked through the door, I heard him chatting away with his little friends. But here’s the thing—I couldn’t understand a single word he was saying. Not because he was mumbling or being a typical toddler. No, it was because my son was speaking fluent Punjabi.
Yes, you read that right. Punjabi.
And if you’re wondering how a Nigerian toddler growing up in Canada ended up speaking Punjabi, well, welcome to my life. Pour yourself some tea (or coffee, no judgment here), because this is a story about language, culture, identity, and a whole lot of mama worry.
When “Sili Kaka” Became Part of Our Vocabulary
It started innocently enough. A few months after my son started daycare—right after he turned two—he began repeating this phrase: “Sili Kaka.” Over and over again. “Sili Kaka. Sili Kaka.”
At first, I thought it was just toddler gibberish, you know, one of those made-up words kids create. But he said it so frequently and with such confidence that I knew there had to be more to it.
So naturally, I did what every confused millennial mom does—I Googled it. Except I had no idea how to spell it. I typed in my best phonetic guess and got… nothing helpful. Then I turned to ChatGPT (because why not?), and that’s when I learned that “Kaka” means “boy” or “young man” in Punjabi, often used affectionately. And “Sili”? Well, depending on the context, it can mean “silly,” “foolish,” or “naive.”
My son was calling someone (or maybe himself?) a silly boy. In Punjabi. A language neither his father nor I speak.
That’s when it hit me: my son was picking up a whole new language at daycare, and I was completely in the dark about it.
Welcome to the Most Indian Daycare in Canada
Let me back up a bit. When my son turned two, we enrolled him in a daycare near our home. It’s a wonderful place—clean, caring staff, lots of activities. But here’s the thing: it’s predominantly Indian. The staff, the kids, pretty much everyone speaks Punjabi as naturally as they breathe.
Don’t get me wrong—the staff are incredibly kind, and my son absolutely loves going there. He runs in every morning with the biggest smile on his face, and that matters more to me than anything. I’m genuinely comfortable with him being there.
But I didn’t fully realize how immersed he’d become in the language. Now, when I pick him up, I sometimes hear him chatting with his friends in Punjabi, and they respond back without missing a beat. Even the staff have told me, “Oh yes, he speaks Punjabi!” with proud smiles on their faces.
And honestly? I have no idea what he’s saying most of the time. I don’t understand Punjabi at all. So when he’s speaking it, I’m just standing there like a confused extra in a Bollywood movie.
But Wait, There’s More: Enter Yoruba
Now, here’s where it gets even more layered. While my son is learning Punjabi at daycare, my husband and I are intentionally teaching him Yoruba at home.
Why? Because Yoruba is our heritage. It’s our roots, our background, and I don’t want my son to lose that connection. Plus, I’ve always wanted him to be multilingual, and it only makes sense for him to be able to speak his own language first.
My husband actually speaks Yoruba better and more frequently than I do, and he’s a firm believer that our son needs to know the language. So we speak it to him daily. We use specific words, explain what they mean in English, and have him repeat them back to us.
So far, he’s doing pretty well! He knows his greetings: “E kaaro” (good morning), “O dabo” (goodbye). He can say “Ma binu” (sorry) and “Joko” (sit down). And let me tell you, there is nothing cuter than hearing a three-year-old say “E kaaro” with that little toddler lisp. It melts my heart every single time.
His grandparents speak mostly Yoruba to him too and always encourage us to keep teaching him. They remind us—sometimes more firmly than I’d like—that language is how he stays connected to where he comes from.
And they’re right.
So Where Does English Fit Into All of This?
Here’s the part where my worry creeps in.
With all this Punjabi at daycare and Yoruba at home, I’ve started to notice that my son sometimes struggles to find words when he’s speaking to me in English. He’ll pause mid-sentence, searching for the right word, and I can see the gears turning in his little brain.
For example, the other day he wanted to say, “I want to wear my trousers,” but it came out as, “I want to wear my sokoto.” Sokoto is the Yoruba word for trousers. He was mixing languages without even realizing it.
And I wonder—does spending most of his day in a Punjabi-speaking environment affect his English vocabulary? Is he falling behind?
I don’t want to compare him to other kids. I really don’t. Every child develops at their own pace, and I know that. But then I scroll through Instagram or TikTok and see kids his age speaking in full, clear sentences with impressive vocabularies, and that little voice of doubt whispers, “Should he be further along by now?”
My biggest concern is next year. He’ll be starting school—real school—in a Canadian system where English is the primary language. I don’t want him to struggle. I don’t want him to feel lost or left behind because he’s juggling three languages in his little head.
I haven’t talked to his pediatrician about this yet (I know, I know, I should). But his daycare teacher has reassured me not to worry. She says they’re working on his English, and that he’s doing just fine.
But you know how it is—mom guilt and worry don’t always listen to logic.
What the Research Says (And What I’m Choosing to Believe)
So of course, I’ve done what any anxious mom would do: I’ve researched the heck out of multilingual child development.
Here’s what I’ve learned that gives me some peace:
The reassuring part: Children’s brains are incredibly adaptable, especially when it comes to language. Studies show that kids who grow up learning multiple languages often have better cognitive flexibility, problem-solving skills, and even better focus than monolingual children. The key is consistent exposure to each language, and experts say it’s completely normal for multilingual kids to mix languages as they’re learning—it’s called “code-switching,” and it’s actually a sign of linguistic intelligence, not confusion.
But then there’s this:
The concerning part: Some research suggests that children learning multiple languages simultaneously can experience what’s called a “language delay” in their early years. They might have a smaller vocabulary in each individual language compared to monolingual peers, and they may take a bit longer to form complex sentences. The good news is that this usually evens out by the time they reach school age, but in the moment, as a parent, it’s hard not to worry when you see the gap.
So where does that leave me? Somewhere in the middle, holding onto hope and trying not to spiral.
Why Yoruba Matters More Than Just Words
For me, teaching my son Yoruba isn’t just about language—it’s about identity.
I want him to hold onto the strong discipline that’s woven into our culture. There’s something about scolding him in Yoruba that makes him understand the gravity of what he did. The tone, the words—they carry weight in a way that English just doesn’t capture.
Our culture is also rich with proverbs for every situation imaginable. And let me tell you, these proverbs sound even more powerful when said in Yoruba. Yes, he’s still too young to fully grasp the meanings, but I believe it’s good to start planting those seeds now. Language is how culture gets passed down, and I don’t want that thread to break with his generation.
I worry that if he doesn’t speak Yoruba fluently, he’ll lose his connection to his heritage. And it’s more than just being able to talk to his grandparents (though that matters too). It’s about him knowing who he is, where he comes from, and carrying that with him wherever life takes him.
Because let’s be real—living in Canada, he’s already navigating multiple identities. He’s Nigerian. He’s Canadian. He’s growing up in a multicultural world. I want him to be rooted in all of it, not lost in the middle.
The Reality of Our Daily Language Mix
Here’s the honest breakdown of our language situation:
My son spends most of his waking hours at daycare, which means he’s hearing a lot more Punjabi and English than Yoruba. At home, we default to English most of the time—it’s just easier and more natural for us. But we’re trying to be way more intentional about speaking Yoruba with him.
Right now, he seems most comfortable speaking English. It’s his go-to language. But he mixes all three without thinking twice. And honestly? I’m choosing to see that as a good thing.
Him speaking Punjabi is a bonus. It’s a beautiful language, and the fact that he can communicate with his friends and teachers in their native tongue is something I’m proud of. It shows adaptability, openness, and connection.
What I Wish Someone Had Told Me
If I could go back and talk to myself a year ago, when I was first stressing about all this, here’s what I’d say:
Relax. Your child’s brain is a sponge, and it’s doing exactly what it’s supposed to do—absorbing the world around him. The mixing of languages isn’t a sign of confusion; it’s a sign that he’s learning to navigate a multilingual world. Trust the process. Trust your son. And trust that you’re doing a great job, even when it doesn’t feel like it.
I’d also tell myself to celebrate the small wins. Every “E kaaro” and every giggle when he says “Kilo n sele” is proof that he’s connecting with his roots. Every time he chats with his daycare friends in Punjabi, he’s building bridges. And every English word he learns brings him one step closer to thriving in the Canadian school system.
You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. Just keep showing up, keep speaking to him in love, and keep creating space for all the languages that make up his world.
To the Mama Who’s Worried Too
If you’re reading this and feeling the same kind of worry I am, let me say this: You’re not alone.
Raising a multilingual child is messy, confusing, and sometimes overwhelming. There are no perfect answers, no one-size-fits-all solutions. You’re going to second-guess yourself. You’re going to compare your child to others (even when you tell yourself not to). You’re going to wonder if you’re doing it right.
But here’s the truth: the fact that you care enough to worry means you’re already doing it right.
Keep speaking your language to your child. Keep exposing them to the languages around them. Keep trusting that their brilliant little brains will figure it out in time. And most importantly, keep celebrating every single word, no matter what language it’s in.
My Proudest Moments
Despite all my worries, I need to tell you this: I am so incredibly proud of my son.
He’s a smart, curious, loving little boy. And honestly? I struggle with learning languages myself. I always have. So watching him effortlessly switch between English, Yoruba, and Punjabi—and even repeat words from the Spanish and French toy he plays with—fills me with so much joy.
He’s doing something I could never do at his age (or even now, let’s be honest). And that’s worth celebrating.
So yes, I still worry about his English. I still wonder if I’m doing enough to teach him Yoruba. I still feel a little lost when he speaks Punjabi.
But at the end of the day, I’m raising a child who will move through the world with multiple languages in his toolkit, multiple cultures in his heart, and the ability to connect with people in ways I never could.
And that, mama, is something to be proud of.
Has your child surprised you with a language they picked up somewhere unexpected? Or are you navigating the multilingual parenting journey too? I’d love to hear your story in the comments—and trust me, I could use the encouragement (and maybe a few tips!). Let’s figure this out together.
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