Can I get an ‘N’, Vanna?

My three-year-old son likes to add the ‘n’ sound to
many of the words he uses. The other day he asked me
for a pair of ‘soncks’.

“The word is ‘socks’,” I told him. No matter. He
already had his shoes on and was out the door to play
at the ‘parnk’.

Where does he get this nasal-honking sound? Is he
part goose? His older brother speaks nasally, also,
especially when he’s upset. He doesn’t add the ‘n’
sound to his words but he could give Steve Urkel a run
for his money. It sounds like he’s pinching his nose
the more upset he gets.

But, you get used to it, I suppose, and after awhile
you don’t really hear the made up dialect your
children speak. And then you start sounding just like
them.

My husband went to ‘wornk’ the other day and ‘aynt’
the lunch I made for him and said it was ‘realny’
good. It sure makes me ‘feeln’ like I’m doing a good
job when he compliments me like ‘thant’.

I mean it.

To add more silliness to the situation, this same
child looks (and acts) like a leprechaun. Don’t try
to correct him. His ears turn red and he hops up and
down shaking his fist. So I asked him, “Where’s your
‘pont’ of gold?” Sometimes humor is lost on little
ones.

Sometimes not. I woke up one morning recently to
discover him by the side of my bed painting the brand
new carpet black. “What are you doing?!”

“Painting!”

“I see that.” I reached for the brushes and I swear
he jumped up, clicked his heels, and vanished in an
instant.

Now, I’m not in the habit of waking up while in a full
run down the hall. It really jostles the brain
around. And USUALLY, the little twerp slips under the
covers with me and we snooze together for a bit before
starting the day.

So it took awhile to take it all in. He’d served
himself breakfast and had already climbed back in his
chair to finish his feast before I could catch up to
him.

I suppose after the morning he’d had painting, he was
very hungry. He had an apple with a ‘fornk’ in it
that he held up proudly like a trophy. There were
candy wrappers — evidence that he’d cleaned out Dad’s
secret stash.

Upon further inspection I saw that he’d dressed
himself, too. Shirt and pants on backward, ‘soncks’
twisted around. “Momma, can I have my big ‘trunck’
today?”

I should ‘starnt’ drinking ‘conffee’ in the morning — no
make that the night before — so I can get up, stay up
and keep up with this one.

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