Middle Son took a long time to pronounce his r’s. He also took a while to pronounce s-blends (you know, “space” came out as “pace”, Spiderman was ‘Piderman).
He and I were talking this morning, about his plans to play laser-tag today at day camp, and it dawned on me that he is speaking completely normally now (albeit like a seven-year-old). He asks for popcorn for a snack, and it doesn’t come out “popcoahn”. Our little Jersey-sounding goomba is gone.
So, to commemorate this sad passing of little boy to big boy, two of my favorite stories about Middle Son talking:
A diner near our home has kid cups with banana splits on them. Middle Son saw this picture, and asked his father for one for “dessuahte”. (It’s hard to write phoenetically. Try to hear it the way a child might say it.) Dad asks Middle Son to ask for it by name. M.S. says, “It’s a banana ‘plit!” Dad says, “Son, use your s’s.” So M.S. replies, “It’s a sssssss- banana ‘plit!”
I was home with the boys one evening, and Hubby called to say he was on his way home. Eldest Son answered the phone. Hubby asks, “Who am I talking to?” E.S. says, “Dad, it’s me” all exasperated. (He’s 11. You know how it is.) Dad replies, “You sound a lot alike over the phone. Which ‘me’ is ‘me’?” Eldest Son sighs dramatically, slouches his shoulders, and says….. “bird.”
(If you don’t get that little story right away, just wait for it. It’ll come.)