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.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Sno-ball, not Toe-ball
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1 comment:
This gentle transition, so well-told, made me wistful, Zoanna. I remember secretly adoring my daughter's slight lisp when she was little. It was barely noticeable to anyone but me, and I found it so charming. A first-grade teacher "cured" her, which was absolutely the right thing to do...but oh, how I treasure those old videotapes with my five-year-old angel popping out from behind the couch and shouting, "thurpriiiiiiiith!!!"
As always, Zoanna, thanks for the smile and warm fuzzies!!!!
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