Sno-ball, not Toe-ball

Joel learned to say his "sn-" blend today. I hadn't really wanted him to stop with his cute "impediment" but his brother Stephen told me it was time. So I prompted him on the way to the snoball stand. (In Maryland, the "w" in snow is dropped when one is referring to the summer treat of shaved ice with artificial fruit flavored syrup mixed in).

In our van were two of my sons (Joel and Stephen) and two young boys visiting from Israel, one who speaks very little English, and another whose diction is quite good but who invites correction.

What kind of snoball do you want, Joel?

"I want a Batman toeball."

"Joel, it's snnnno-ball," Stephen said. "Say snnnno-ball."

"Snnnn...toe-ball." We laughed. He laughed. This coaching continued, and then Joel got it right.

"Snnno-ball?" he asked. We clapped. He laughed, and so on. Then he changed the reptile from "take" to "snake" and "Tickers" candy bar to "Snickers."

Aww, my baby's growing up.