This is Luke.
He is my 5-year-old son. He is ridiculously smart. I know as a mom, I am legally obligated to tell you that, even if he had the i.q. of a sweet potato, but really he is incredibly bright.
He's been doing addition, subtraction, and multiplication since he was 4. He has recently added to the mix some division, algebra, and square roots. (Can you understand how much trouble I am in as a bearer of a Bachelor of Arts, English major degree? Math is sooo beyond me.) But that's not what I'm writing about today.
Luke started kindergarten this year. That was a big life change for him, but something else has changed as well. His accent has gone so far off the deep end, that we make him say stuff just for the chance to laugh at him. He's always had a little bit of an accent. Being a Southern boy by the grace of God, he has that certain twang. That twang is now more resounding, like a gong.
I don't know if it's a thing like Madonna going to England and suddenly becoming British or what, but I am beginning to think that his teacher or his friends MUST have that Larry the Cable Guy accent because I know that he isn't hearing it at home. His big sister, Emma (who is 8 and knows everything there is to know about everything, thankyouverymuch), has even noticed it and points it out--in that certain "loving" way that only a big sister can muster.
Now anyone that knows me is aware of how far I've come from my first days at BSC. I was not all that far removed from Ellie Mae Clampett as far as accent goes.
(I.E., My speech at high school graduation was immortalized on videotape for my embarrassment. It begins, "Waaay, the clayuss of nun-teen-hundred-and nun-ty-thray are beganning our jurr-neee into tha fuu-cher." Forrest Gump would've been proud.) I have hope that Luke will also one day be able to speak to people from north of the Mason-Dixon without a translator.
Just The Four Of Us.
21 hours ago