When your babies begin to talk, really talk for the first time, it is always fascinating to listen to how they string syllables and grunts into words, sometimes creating entirely new ways to say things that have been said over and over again.
Some kids hang on to those creative dialects of their babyhood, as the mispronunciations become habit and hard to break. That's when it can get annoying for the parents, well, at least for my husband and myself. Because while I find it endearing and cute to hear a 2-year-old say something like "can I have some poppa-sicle pwease?", it is not so cute when a 10-year-old says it.
One of Katie's little baby-talking hang-ups is saying "yet's" instead of "let's". I am not advocating the employment of a speech therapist just yet, as she is only 3, but I know that in a few years, if she's still saying "yet's go daddy", it won't be nearly as effective as it is now. Hopefully she isn't using "yet's" during the teen years because I can just hear her, all sassy-like saying to her friends "yet's go to the mall".
The other evening, while enjoying the "new" deck, we were visiting with a certain family member who shall remain nameless because I do not want to embarrass her (although I know she could care less that I share this story). She was telling us of a time, in the late 70's, when she and her friend vacationed in Hawaii.
As she went on and on about how much fun the two women had terrorizing all of Waikiki with their bikini bods and permed hair-do's, she mentioned how her friend really wanted to ride in a "ricochet".
"A ricochet", she giggled, telling us about the little bicycles with the carts attached to the back that bring the tourists all around . . . like we didn't know what a "ricochet" was, jeez.
Then, she went on about the fact that she had passed up the opportunity to meet "Tom Seltzer", you know, that actor from that tv show . . . what was it? Oh yes, "Magnesium P.I.".
After her Hawaii story was over, we somehow got on the subject of how we were growing a little tired of eating hot dogs, because of all the camping we'd been doing.
Having been married to a butcher, she knows a lot about the meat.
"You know, if I'm going to have a hot dog," she began, "then I buy those Jewish ones".
I think Brett spit water out of his nose when she said that.
"They aren't Jewish hot dogs, they're kosher!" he said to her.
"I know," she said, "Highbrow National".