You can be very difficult to understand. At almost four years old this is frustrating for those of us trying desperately to understand you. You sound like a drunk; all slurred words and mispronunciations (“Ethcuse me, Occifer…”). A few examples:
shirk = shirt
fashite = flashlight
anam = banana
mesin = medicine
shuice = juice and shoes
orn = orange
L’s are straight out. You either skip them completely or replace them with W’s. I mean really, who has time for L’s? R’s get a similar treatment. So, at this point half of what you say contains a ‘W’. This isn’t a speech impediment, mind you. When pressed, you will say them. You have chosen not to. Great. That helps.
Long words are reduced to the least amount of syllables necessary. Does a word really need to be more than 1-2 syllables? You think not. Hence, mesin=medicine and orn= orange.
Imagine our surprise when this happened:
Me: Kitten, can you read this word? It’s a really long one. Can you sound it out?
Kitten: Whoa. Um…Wooo..rrr…k…Um. I can’t read that yet.
Me: That’s ok. It says, “Wor-ces-ter-shire.” Can you say that?
Seriously, Buddy? You can’t say ‘banana’ but you can perfectly pronounce ‘Worcestershire’ on the first try??
Like a freaking native too (Woos-chest-sher). Maybe you don’t have trouble speaking after all? Maybe you just have a Boston accent?
Later that evening, Kitten was reading a story for us all by herself, but she got stuck on a word.
“Green?” she attempted. Nope.
“Giant!” Buddy corrected. Correct! But, how…?
“How many times have you read this book?” Your father asked. Only twice. How on earth did you know that, Buddy?
You walk around acting silly, running in to things, and mispronouncing everything, but I think you are holding out on us, Buddy. There is a clever little brain hiding underneath that thick layer of silly and one day you’re going to surprise us all.
Here’s hoping I’m sitting down when it happens!